FRED  LOCKLEY 

RARE  WESTERN  BOOKS 

4227  S.  E.  Stark  St. 
PORTLAND.  ORE 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


M 


- 


*  * 


3MU 


LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS 


YANKEE    HILL: 


TOGETHER   WITH 


ANECDOTES    AND     INCIDENTS 


HIS    TRAVELS. 


DR.   W.    K.    NORTHALL 


NE  W-YORK, 
PUBLISHED  FOR  MRS.   CORDELIA  HILL, 

BY   W.    P.    BURGESS,  22    ANN    STREET. 

1850. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 

BY  CORDELIA  HILL, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the 
Northern  District  of  New  York. 


INTRODUCTION. 


IT  is  to  be  regretted  some  means  cannot  be 
discovered  whereby  the  impression  which  the 
player  makes  by  his  acting  could  be  Daguerre- 
otyed,  so  that  his  pictures  may  be  handed 
down  to  posterity,  that  those  who  follow  after 
us  may  know  what  manner  of  man  he  was. 
The  immortality  which  crowns  the  labors  of 
the  painter  in  a  great  measure  depends  upon 
the  durability  of  the  material  he  employs  in  his 
art.  If  the  splendid  conceptions  of  Raphael 
had  faded  from  the  canvass  upon  which  they 
were  realized,  as  speedily  as  those  of  the  Actor 
fade  from  the  public  memory  when  he  is  no 
longer  able  to  make  them  palpable,  the  Player's 
art  would  not  suffer,  as  it  does  now,  from  corn- 

3 

Ml  1439 


IV  INTRODUCTION. 

parison  with,  that  of  the  Painter.  It  requires 
as  high  a  degree  of  intellect  to  embody  a  living 
representation  of  character  on  the  stage  as  it 
does  to  impress  it  on  canvass,  and  the  Painter 
has  only  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  render 
that  lasting  which  is  evanescent  and  short-lived 
with  the  Player. 

No  matter  what  command  of  language  the 
Biographer  of  an  eminent  Actor  may  possess, 
what  skill  he  may  employ  in  the  detail  and 
management  of  his  subject,  it  is  utterly  im 
possible  for  him,  in  language,  to  convey  a  full 
and  nice  appreciation  of  those  fine  qualities  of 
his  genius  which  spoke  from  the  eye,  were 
felt  in  the  tones  of  the  voice,  and  gave  mean 
ing  to  the  very  slightest  action  of  the  body. 
In  writing  the  Biography  of  Mr.  HILL,  whose 
fame  as  a  delineator  of  a  peculiar  class  of 
character  is  co-extensive  with  the  land  that 
gave  him  birth,  I  cannot  but  feel  all  the  diffi 
culties  and  embarrassments  which  arise  from 
a  want  of  means,  as  well  as  power  to  do 
justice  to  his  character  as  an  actor,  and  if  it 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

were  not  that  I  am  addressing  thousands  who 
have  seen  him,  and  whose  memories  will  sup 
ply  that  which  language  cannot  convey,  I 
should  feel  almost  disposed  to  abandon  the 
task  I  have  assumed,  in  despair.  It  is  a  com 
mon  error  with  a  certain  class  of  people,  to 
suppose  that  a  man  who  devotes  his  time  and 
life  to  the  amusement  of  the  public,  has  no 
higher  claims  to  the  respect  of  the  community 
than  those  which  might  be  preferred  by  the 
dancing  monkey.  I  have  yet  to  learn,  how 
ever,  that  the  wit  which  can  make  the  judici 
ous  smile,  is  less  a  spark  of  heavenly  fire  than 
the  pathos  which  can  make  the  tender  weep. 
If  people  are  easier  made  to  laugh  than  cry, 
it  is  rather  a  strong  motive  for  believing  that 
God  designed  that  mirth  should  be  the  rule  and 
weeping  the  exception;  and  he,  in  my  opinion, 
who  devotes  his  life  to  humanize  the  over  long- 
drawn  solemn  face,  people  a  desert  of  wrinkles 
with  cheerful  spirits,  and  relieve  the  lachrymal 
gland  from  an  eternal  flow  of  tears,  thus  saving 
a  thousand  cheerful  impulses  from  a  watery 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

grave,  lives  to  accomplish  a  noble  purpose,  and 
should  command  admiration  in  his  vocation, 
rather  than  the  obloquy  too  frequently  be 
stowed  upon  his  efforts.  The  man  who  goes 
about  continually  moaning  and  groaning, 
stereotyping  his  face  into  a  fixed  misery,  is  a 
fool  to  himself  and  an  ingrate  to  his  God. 
The  birds  are  cheerful  at  all  times,  in  season, 
the  flowers  are  decked  in  the  gayest  colors, 
and  is  man,  made  in  the  image  of  his  God, 
to  go  sneaking  through  the  world  as  though 
he  had  no  business  in  it,  and  as  though  he  must 
make  himself  miserable  in  order  to  be  happy  ? 
The  Actor's  art  has  higher  aims  and  nobler 
purposes  than  the  Aminadab  Sleeks  of  the 
day  are  willing  to  award  it ;  and  the  time,  I 
trust,  is  not  far  distant  when  the  stage,  purified 
from  the  adventitious  evils  which  have  grown 
around  it,  will  justify  itself,  and  take  its  proper 
place  among  the  highest  and  surest  means  of 
reforming  and  elevating  society.  I  have 
spoken  thus  freely,  because  I  have  undertaken 
the  biography  of  Mr.  HILL,  "  with  a  will," 


INTRODUCTION.  Vll 

and  I  would  have  those  whom  I  shall  address, 
believe  that  I  would  not  have  undertaken  the 
editing  of  a  mere  jest  book,  for  neither  humor 
nor  wit  have  any  dignity,  in  my  mind,  unless 
they  are  employed  to  effect  some  good  object 
or  illustrate  a  valued  truth.  It  is  the  convic 
tion  that  Mr.  HILL  accomplished  a  useful  and 
honorable  destiny,  which  makes  me  feel  de 
sirous  to  be,  in  part,  the  means  of  preserving 
as  far  as  possible  the  memory  of  the  man  and 
his  deeds. 


BIOGRAPHICAL     SKETCH. 


GEORGE  HANDEL  HILL  was  born  in  the  city  of  Boston, 
in  the  year  1809.  His  father,  Uri  K.  Hill,  enjoyed  some 
reputation  in  the  musical  world.  The  late  Samuel  Wood- 
worth,  the  well-known  author  of  the  "  Moss-covered 
Bucket,''  in  a  brief  sketch  which  he  left  of  the  early  career 
of  his  friend,  Mr.  Hill,  humorously  supposes  that  the  rev 
erence  in  which  the  father  held  the  memory  of  the  great 
composer,  was  the  cause  of  George  having  a  Handel  to  his 
name. 

At  an  early  age,  he  was  placed  in  the  Taunton  Acad 
emy,  it  being  ultimately  intended  that  he  should  enter  the 
Harvard  University,  to  become  fitted  for  the  practice  of 
whichever  of  the  learned  professions  his  taste  might  select. 
Alas  !  as  Burns  says,  "  the  best  laid  schemes  are  mice, 
and  we  oft  gang  aglee,"  and  ere  even  all  the  honors  of 
the  Taunton  Academy  had  crowned  the  labors  of  our 
hero,  a  seed,  sown  no  one  knows  how,  had  begun  to  ger 
minate  in  his  mind,  which  soon  grew  up  a  shrub  of  vigor 
ous  promise. 

Young  Hill  had  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  humorous 
and  ridiculous,  and  being  gifted  with  unusual  powers  of 
imitation,  soon  made  himself  notorious  among  his  school- 


10  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

mates  as  &  ie!lev  "  of  infinite  jest,"  whom  to  see  in  his  merry 
moments,  was  to  them  "  as  good  as  a  play.'* 

•The  -admiration  which  his  juvenile  efforts  elicted  from 
his  school-fellows,  made  him  ambitious  to  improve  his 
abilities,  and  perhaps  at  this  time  he  imbibed  the  first 
desire  to  gain  a  larger  stage  for  the  exhibition  of  his 
comic  talents.  Study,  to  a  boy  of  his  mercurial  tempera 
ment  and  humorous  disposition,  was,  as  can  easily  be 
imagined,  at  best  but  dull  work.  His  parents,  of  course, 
were  grieved  that  the  Taunton  Academy  had  so  little  fasci 
nation  for  him,  or  that  Harvard  University  in  perspective, 
could  not  win  from  him  a  more  sturdy  application  to  severe 
study.  The  vis  comica  was  in  him,  and  neither  the  hopes 
of  collegiate  honors,  nor  the  parental  frowns,  could  drive 
this  supposed  enemy  from  the  strong  hold  it  had  upon  his 
mind. 

At  the  age  of  15  he  gave  up  his  studies,  and,  without 
the  consent  of  those  who  had  a  right  to  control  his  actions 
at  that  age,  repaired  to  New  York,  to  seek  his  fortune. 
If  boys  could  only  look  beyond  the  romance  which  youth 
ful  imagination  raises  between  their  present  and  their 
future,  and  see  the  struggles  and  difficulties  which  beset 
unaided  merit,  no  matter  how  great,  I  fancy  there  are  few 
of  them  would  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  parental  warning,  or 
leave  a  cheerful  fire-side  for  the  certain  miseries  of  a  too 
early  entrance  upon  the  stage  of  life.  Parents,  on  the 
other  hand,  should  be  very  careful  how  they  render  the 
homes  of  their  children  unattractive,  by  a  too  severe  bend 
ing  of  natural  impulses  to  supposed  duties.  No  impulse 
which  leads  a  child  to  an  honest  pursuit,  however  different 
from  the  one  selected  or  desired,  should  be  inconsiderately 
checked,  particularly  where  the  impulse  is  accompanied 


YANKEE    HILL.  11 

with  unmistakeable  evidence  of  genius.  Many  a  youth, 
who  has  abandoned  his"  home  for  the  pursuits  of  a  theatri 
cal  career,  and  has  afterwards  been  left  a  floating  atom  on 
the  sea  of  life,  driven  to  and  fro,  without  guide  or  compass, 
by  every  fitful  wind  that  blew,  would,  under  a  more 
kindly  guidance,  have  become,  not  only  a  brilliant  orna 
ment  in  the  profession  of  his  adoption,  but  what  is  better, 
would  have  been  as  respectable  in  moral  conduct,  as 
admirable  in  dramatic  ability.  Luckily  for  our  young 
adventurer,  his  love  of  the  Drama  was  subordinate  to  the 
lessons  of  morality  he  had  been  taught  at  home,  and 
whilst  his  heart  was  in  the  Theatre,  he  never  forgot  his 
accountability  to  society  for  his  bearing  and  conduct.  On 
his  arrival  at  New  York  he  sought  employment,  and 
found  it  at  a  jeweler's  store  in  Chatham  street,  where  he 
was  engaged  as  a  clerk.  He  was,  at  this  time,  but  15 
years  of  age. 

In  selecting  a  place  in  Chatham  street,  he  had,  doubt 
less,  his  eye  to  a  Theatrical  neighborhood,  for  the  store  in 
which  he  was  engaged  was  next  door,  or  near  Barrere's 
Garden,  a  famous  place  of  amusement  in  those  days.  It  is 
not  very  wonderful  that,  with  the  strong  predilections 
which  he  had  for  the  stage,  he  should  have  a  congenial 
admiration  for  the  Players.  He  soon  contrived  to  form 
an  acquaintance  with  some  of  the  Actors  engaged  in  the 
neighboring  establishment.  This  led  to  an  introduction 
behind  the  scenes.  The  gates  of  his  paradise  being  thus 
open  to  his  entrte,  he  soon  became  desirous  of  being  some 
thing  more  than  a  mere  looker  on  ; — he  was  anxious  to 
hold  a  closer  communion  with  the  kings,  dukes,  and 
princes  which  nightly  assembled.  But  the  aforesaid  digni 
taries,  however  familiar  in  their  lucid  intervals,  could  not 


12  LIFE   AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

allow  a  sudden  and  too  familiar  approach,  and  young  Hill, 
with  all  his  earnest  longing,  and  vaulting  ambition,  had  to 
learn,  that  the  way  to  a  throne  or  principality  is  beset 
with  thorns  and  difficulties  :  but  he  had  "  that  within  that 
passeth  show,"  and  he  submitted  with  a  good  grace  to  the 
necessity  of  beginning  at  the  beginning,  feeling  confident 
that  at  no  remote  period,  he  would  rule  where  he  was  now 
serving. 

His  first  appearance  on  the  stage  was  in  a  Roman  mob, 
whose  duty  it  was  to  throw  up  greasy  caps  to  Coriolanus, 
and  shout  when  the  prompter  gave  the  cue.  He  was  an 
Actor  now,  and  although  he  played  no  very  important 
part  in  the  Drama,  there  is  but  little  doubt  he  thought  his 
shout  was  a  little  the  loudest,  the  strongest,  and  the  most 
Roman  of  them  all.  After  a  while,  he  was,  as  a  favor, 
entrusted  to  deliver  short  messages  upon  the  stage.  In 
this  rather  difficult  duty  he  acquitted  himself  to  the  satis 
faction  of  all  concerned. 

Young  Hill  now  formed  an  unalterable  determination  to 
adopt  the  stage  as  his  profession.  It  does  not  appear  that 
he  had  determined  upon  any  particular  walk  of  the  Drama, 
or  had  even  asked  himself  the  question  what  was  the  line 
of  business  for  which  he  was  best  fitted.  The  Yankee 
character,  in  the  delineation  of  which  he  afterwards  became 
so  famous,  had  never  been  presented  on  the  stage  with  any 
success,  and  of  course,  adopting  the  Yankee  as  his  starting 
point  never  occurred  to  him.  (Mr.  Hackett  had  not  yet 
made  his  appearance,  nor  did  he,  until  1826,  one  year  after 
Mr.  Hill  had  made  the  Yankee  peculiarly  his  own.) 

In  the  year  1825,  Wood  worth's  pastoral  Opera  of  the 
Forest  Rose  was  produced  ;  the  part  of  "  Jonathan,"  the 
Yankee,  was  entrusted  to  Alexander  Simpson.  Although 


YANKEE    HILL.  13 

the  character  of  "  Jonathan  "  is  a  mere  sketch,  Mr.  Simpson 
managed  to  make  it  a  very  amusing  part  to  the  audience, 
who  nightly  thronged  to  witness  the  production  of  a 
native  author.  The  effect  produced  upon  young  Hill  was 
such,  as  at  once  determined  him  to  make  the  Yankee  char 
acter  his  study.  The  success  which  afterwards  crowned 
his  efforts  showed  how  well  he  had  judged  his  own  capa 
bilities.  His  mind  decided  upon  the  particular  path  he 
should  travel  on  the  road  to  fame  and  fortune  ;  he  desired 
nothing  so  much  as  an  opportunity  of  appearing  in  his 
favorite  character.  Whilst  at  the  Chatham  Street  Theatre, 
engaged  in  the  way  we  have  already  noticed,  he  was  intro 
duced  to  a  country  manager,  who  readily  engaged  him  for 
the  low  comedian  of  his  company,  which  was  about  to 
make  a  theatrical  tour  through  the  western  part  of  the 
State  of  New  York.  I  believe  during  this  engagement  he 
had  no  opportunity  of  appearing  in  his  favorite  character, 
the  Yankee, — yet  the  arrangement  was  full  of  satisfaction, 
for  he  not  only  acquired  confidence  and  experience,  but 
great  popularity;  he  became  a  favorite  wherever  he  ap 
peared.  Mr.  Hill's  comedy  consisted,  as  he  himself  after 
wards  expressed  it,  in  grimacing, — or,  technically,  mug- 
making.  During  this  engagement,  he  met,  at  Stafford, 
with  the  "  Methodical  Audience,"  whose  serious  character 
he  used  to  represent  so  inimitably  in  his  entertainments. 
The  good  people  of  Stafford,  it  appears,  had  been  unused 
to  theatrical  representations, — the  company,  of  which  Mr. 
Hill  was  then  a  member,  being  the  first  dramatic  corps 
which  had  ever  appeared  among  them.  On  the  opening 
night  of  the  Theatre,  alias  ball-room,  the  tragedy  of  Wil 
liam  Tell  was  played,  to  be  succeeded  by  the  farce  of  the 
"  Lady  and  the  Devil."  When  the  audience  assembled, 


14  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

the  women  were  found  seated  on  one  side  of  the  room,  and 
the  men  on  the  other,  exactly  as  they  had  been  accustomed 
at  church.  During  the  performance  of  the  tragedy,  the 
most  solemn  stillness  was  observed  :  not  a  hand  rewarding 
the  poor  Actor  for  his  exertions.  No  one  but  the  player 
can  tell  the  dull,  hard  labor  of  performing  a  long,  heavy 
part,  unrelieved  by  the  inspiring  influence  of  a  round  of 
applause.  Even  the  ceremony  of  hoisting  the  star-spangled 
banner  above  the  pole  upon  which  Gezlar's  cap  was  placed, 
failed  to  excite  any  palpable  emotion.  The  audience  were 
evidently  on  their  best  behavior.  The  curtain  went  down 
upon  the  tragedy  like  a  pall.  Mr  Hill  was  cast  for  the 
low  comedy  part  in  the  farce,  and  although  he  was  some 
what  disheartened  by  the  cold  character  of  the  audience 
before  which  he  was  about  to  appear,  he  determined  to 
exert  himself  to  the  utmost  to  break  the  ice  which  seemed 
to  encase  each  individual  present.  Mr.  Kill  made  more 
grimaces  on  this  occasion  than  he  ever  employed  before  or 
afterwards,  and  did  more  illegitimate  things  than  ever 
actor  dreamed  of,  to  make  his  audience  laugh,  but  it  was  of 
no  avail,  they  were  immoveable.  After  the  performance, 
Mr.  Hill  retired  to  the  public  room  of  the  hotel  in  which  he 
boarded,  wearied  with  his  efforts,  and  mortified  with  his 
want  of  success.  He  had  scarcely  seated  himself,  when  he 
was  accosted  by  a  tall,  raw-boned  countryman. 

"  Lewk  here,  mister." 

"Well,  sir?" 

"  I've  been  in  to  see  the  play  to-night." 

"Have  you,  indeed?"  said  Mr.  Hill,  "  you  must  have 
been  highly  entertained." 

"  I  swow,  I  guess  I  was.  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  now ; 
my  mouth  won't  be  straight  for  the  next  month,  straining 


YANKEE    HILL.  15 

to  keep  from  larfing.  If  it  hadn't  a  been  far  the  women,  I 
should  a  snorted  right  out  in  the  meet'm'." 

Mr.  Hill  was,  of  course,  gratified  to  find  that  the  solemn 
behavior  of  the  audience  was  in  obedience  to  their  conven 
tional  notions  of  public  conduct,  instead  of  the  want  of 
comic  merit  in  his  efforts. 

Before  he  had  completed  his  engagement,  he  met  with 
an  accident  at  Batavia  which  confined  him  to  his  bed  for 
some  weeks ;  and  I  believe  for  several  months  disabled 
him  from  performing.  He  met  with  the  greatest  kindness 
from  the  hospitable  people  of  that  town,  which  he  publicly 
acknowledged  by  the  following  address,  delivered  at  the  en 
tertainment  he  gave  on  his  first  appearance  in  public  after 
the  accident : 

ADDRESS,  SPOKEN  ON  TUESDAY,  MARCH  4th,  1828. 

"I  bow  before  you  now,  not  in  the  comic  character 
which  on  former  occasions  has  gained  your  applause  and 
approbation.  There  are  times  of  sorrow  as  well  as  gaiety. 
The  sombre  spectres  and  scenes  of  death,  cannot  be  always 
before  our  eyes,  and  some  light  joys  must  be  an  antidote  to 
those  bitter  sorrows  we  are  doomed  to  suffer.  The  days 
of  prosperity  last  not  forever;  thorns  spring  upon  our 
pathway  that  impede  our  passage.  The  patronage  bestow 
ed  upon  me  in  Batavia,  and  the  compliments  received  shall 
never  be  forgotten :  this  place  and  these  friends  shall  live 
in  my  remembrance  whilst  the  pulsations  of  the  heart  beat 
with  all  the  tenderness  of  feeling.  Honorable  exertion  in 
any  profession  must  command  the  approbation  of  every 
honorable  mind.  By  an  untoward  misfortune  I  suffer  not 
alone.  I  have  not  merely  had  pains  of  body  and  agony  of 


16  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

mind  proceeding  from  the  calamities  which  so  often  embit 
ter  our  paths  on  the  journey  of  life,  but  I  am  a  child,  with 
filial  tenderness,  bound  to  protect  a  mother.  In  this  my 
native  country,  where  the  child  of  sorrow  is  never  left  with 
out  pity  and  sympathy,  it  has  been  my  pride  to  appear  be 
fore  you  with  the  tender  of  my  services.  Of  past  kindness 
I  am  neither  thankless  nor  neglectful,  and  the  meed  of  your 
praise,  whilst  by  your  rewards  bestowed  on  my  labors,  I 
am  enabled  to  support  life,  animates  me  to  more  vigorous 
exertions  in  the  discharge  of  my  duties. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  self-praise  is  no  commenda 
tion,  nor  is  it  a  claim  which  the  humble  aspirant  after  fame 
should  arrogate  unless  it  is  bestowed.  To  please  and 
amuse  you,  I  have  done  and  shall  do  the  best  in  my  hum 
ble  capacity,  and  with  the  full  flow  of  a  grateful  heart 
offer  you  my  best  wishes." 

It  may  be  as  well  to  state  here  that  the  first  entertain 
ment  which  Mr.  Hill  gave  alone,  d  la  Mathews,  was  in  the 
city  of  Brooklyn,  in  the  year  1826.  The  Star,  of  that 
period,  then  under  the  editorial  conduct  of  Col.  Alden 
Spooner-,  speaks  flatteringly  of  the  young  aspirant  for  dra 
matic  fame,  and  intimates  that  at  no  distant  period  Mr. 
Hill  will  occupy  a  distinguished  place  in  the  Theatrical 
world. 

In  the  year  1828,  Mr.  Hill  temporarily  eschewed  "single 
entertainments,"  and  engaged  himself  in  company  for  life, 
with  one  who  faithfully  followed  his  footsteps  through  all 
his  fortunes  to  the  closing,  sad  last  scene  of  life.  He  mar 
ried  Miss  Thompson,  of  Le  Roy,  an  amiable  and  accom 
plished  young  lady,  whose  parents  exacted,  as  a  condition, 
that  he  should  leave  the  stage.  It  is  no  slight  evidence  of 


YANKEE    HILL.  17 

the  strength  of  his  attachment,  that  he  complied  with  terms 
which  to  all  appearance  were  to  crush  the  earnest  longings 
of  his  heart,  and  shut  out  forever  from  his  sight  the  bril 
liant  future  his  warm  imagination  had  painted  for  his  own. 
He  commenced  business,  but,  as  may  readily  be  sup 
posed,  without  success.  His  heart  was  not  in  it.  The  dull 
monotony  of  a  store-keeper's  life  did  not  suit  him  ;  and 
after  making  a  short  and  feeble  effort  to  mercantile  his 
mind,  he  gave  up  the  struggle  and  made  an  engagement 
with  the  manager  of  the  Albany  Theatre.  Mrs.  Hill,  like 
a  sensible  and  affectionate  woman,  did  not  reproach  him 
with  a  violation  of  the  condition  which  her  friends  made  at 
her  marriage,  but  appreciating  the  desires  and  ambition  of 
her  husband,  and  like  him,  confident  in  his  ability  to 
achieve  both  fame  and  fortune,  she,  as  every  good 
wife  would  do,  encouraged  and  aided  him  in  his  efforts. 
That  he  felt  grateful  for  the  sacrifice  which  she  made  for 
his  sake,  is  evinced  by  the  affectionate  character  of  his 
communications  with  her.  His  letters  to  her  when  away, 
even  up  to  the  time  when  the  sickness  seized  him  which 
ended  his  career,  breathe  warm  affection  in  every  line.  But 
of  this  I  shall  have  to  speak  in  another  part  of  his  Life. 
Mr.  Hill's  success  at  Albany,  was  as  eminent  as  his  warmest 
friends  could  have  wished.  He  was  accounted  by  the 
critics  of  that  city,  one  of  the  most  promising  young  come 
dians  of  the  day.  After  leaving  Albany,  he  paid  a  short 
visit  to  Buffalo,  and  delivered  on  several  occasions,  with 
profit  and  success,  the  same  entertainment  I  have  stated  he 
gave  in  Batavia  after  his  accident.  He  then,  with  his 
young  wife,  returned  to  New  York,  and  played  a  short  en 
gagement  at  Peale's  Museum.  During  this  visit,  he  ap 
peared  for  one  evening  at  Blanchard's  Amphitheatre,  now 


18  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

the  Richmond,  and  told  the  following  story  in  his  inimitable 
style : 

"  Darn  my  buttons,  if  I  didn't  once  court  a  gal  by  the 
name  of  Suky  Snow :  any  on  ye  hearn  tell  of  Suky  ?  I 
was  detarmined  to  go  and  ask  her  if  she'd  have  me.  When 
I  got  there,  the  cat  was  playin'  round  the  room,  and  I 
trod  on  her  tail — I  didn't  mean  tew  though — she  squalled 
eout,  and  Suke  jumped  up  as  mad  as  blazes  and  threw  her 
out  doors.  I  felt  kinder  sorry  for  the  cat,  'cause  you 
know  any  cat  will  squall  if  you  tread  on  her  tail.  I  sot 
down  by  the  winder,  and,  thinks  I — I'll  say  something 
now  anyhow :  says  I,  Suke,  it  looks  rather  green  out 
side  reound  here :  yes  says  she,  and  it  looks  rather 
green  inside  tew.  Says  I,  Suke,  there's  the  meetin' 
house ;  yes,  said  she,  and  there  goes  the  Deacon.  Jest  as 
I  was  goin'  to  ask  her  if  she  would  be  my  lawful  wedded 
wife,  her  ugly  old  aunt  came  to  the  door,  and  I  run  and 
held  it  on  t'other  side  ;  she  couldn't  git  in,  and  I  couldn't 
git  eout ;  finally  I  made  a  bolt  for  the  winder,  and  out  I 
went  into  the  old  woman's  soft  soap  tub  ;  as  I  was  crawling 
eout,  one*  feller  said  'Jest  coming  down  ?'  No,  you  tarnal 
fool,  I'm  jest  comin'  up.  You  needn't  larf  none  on  ye — 
I  didn't  lose  nothin'  by  it,  for  I  got  *  my  clothes  washed 
for  half  price,  'caus  they  was  already  soaped.'  " 

He  was  next  engaged  to  go  South  by  Mr.  Falkener,  the 
Manager  of  the  Charleston  Theatre.  He  played  both  at 
Charleston  and  Savannah,  gaining  an  increasing  popularity 
at  every  appearance.  His  star  was  rapidly  rising,  and  he 
received  the  offer  of  a  profitable  engagement  from  Jones, 
Duffy  &  Forrest,  managers  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  of 
Philadelphia.  This  engagement  forms  an  important  era  in 
the  life  of  Mr.  Hill,  for  it  was  during  the  season  he  played 


YANKEE    HILL.  19 

here  that  he  made  his  first  appearance  in  the  Yankee  cha 
racter.  His  success  was  such  as  to  place  him  at  once  on 
a  level  with  the  best  comedians  of  the  day,  and  far  above 
any  as  a  truthful  representative  of  the  genuine  down 
easter.  Mr.  Hill's  Yankee  was  the  "  real  critter."  It  was 
not,  as  are  almost  all  the  representations  of  other  actors  I  have 
seen,  a  mixture  of  Western,  Southern  and  Eastern  pecu 
liarities  of  manner  and  dialect,  but  the  unalloyed,  unadul 
terated  down-easter.  Mr.  Hill  did  not  merely  imitate  their 
tone,  dialect  and  manner,  but  felt  and  thought  like  them.  It 
was  this  faculty,  to  use  a  hackneyed  phrase,  of  throwing; 
himself,  body  and  spirit,  into  a  part,  which  gave  to  his 
Yankee  a  richness  and  truthfulness  not  approached  by  any 
actor  before  or  since  his  time.  He  did  not  merely  put  OB 
a  flaxen  wig,  a  long-tailed  coat,  a  short  vest,  a  bell-crowned 
hat,  and  straps  to  his  pantaloons  long  enough  for  suspen 
ders,  nor  thus  attired  did  he  content  himself  by  imitating 
the  peculiar  drawl  and  queer  expressions  of  the  Yankee, 
for  the  veriest  bungler  on  earth  can  do  all  this,  but  the  spi 
rit  of  Yankeedom  pervaded  every  action  of  his  body,  peep 
ed  from  his  expressive  eyes  with  such  sly  meaning,  that  it 
was  difficult  for  the  time  being,  not  to  believe  it  was  a  mis 
take  in  the  bills,  when  they  announced  Mr.  Hill  as  Major 
Wheeler,  instead  of  announcing  the  veritable  Major 
Wheeler  himself.  Jonathan,  in  Woodworth's  pastoral  opera 
of  the  Forest  Rose,  was  the  part  he  selected  for  his  debut 
in  the  Yankee  character  on  the  occasion  referred  to. 

In  the  year  1832,  he  made  his  first  starring  engagement 
at  Baltimore  with  eminent  success.  In  the  fall  of  the  same 
year,  he  made  his  debut  before  a  Boston  audience.  Orvre- 
turning  to  New  York,  he  was  engaged  by  Mr.  Simpson, 
manager  of  the  Park  Theatre.  The  Park  Theatre  at  that 


20  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

time  was  to  the  other  cities  of  the  Union,  what  Covent 
Garden  or  Drury  Lane  Theatres  are  to  the  provincial  es 
tablishments  of  England,  the  goal  to  which  all  dramatic  ad 
venturers  aspired.  To  be  engaged  on  starring  terms  at  the 
Park,  was  the  actors  ultima  thule,  so  far  as  this  country 
was  concerned.  It  is  deeply  to  be  regretted,  that  there  is 
not  in  New  York  some  establishment  bearing  the  same  sa 
lutary  influence  upon  the  profession,  as  that  which  ema 
nated  from  the  Park  in  its  palmy  days.  There  was  a  power 
behind  the  scenes  of  the  Park,  which  had  to  be  severely 
satisfied,  before  the  dramatic  aspirant  could  tread  the 
stage ;  a  power  above  the  whims  of  misdirected  public 
sympathy,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  a  merely  manufactured 
popularity ;  in  short,  the  Park  was  the  head  and  brains  of 
the  American  stage.  The  Yankee  character  had  been  in 
troduced  as  yet  in  but  very  few  pieces,  and  Mr.  Hill  found 
it  necessary  to  increase  his  stock  of  plays.  With  this  view, 
he  offered  a  prize  of  four  hundred  dollars  for  the  best 
piece  adapted  to  his  peculiar  style  of  character.  A  com 
mittee,  composed  of  the  following  gentlemen — Messrs. 
Verplanck,  Webb,  King,  and  Washington  Irving,  were  chosen 
to  judge  of  the  merits  of  pieces  sent  in.  Quite  a  large 
number  of  authors  competed  for  the  prize,  but  of  all  re 
ceived,  the  committee  did  not  think  one  fairly  entitled  to 
it.  Mr.  Hill  was,  however,  much  in  need  of  novelty, 
and  at  his  solicitation  alone  the  prize  was  awarded  to 
Samuel  Woodworth,  for  a  drama,  entitled  "  The  Found 
ling  of  the  Sea."  It  was  produced  at  the  Park  on  the  third 
engagement  of  Mr.  Hill  at  that  theatre,  but  was  coldly 
received,  and  after  the  third  night  was  withdrawn. 

I  must  now  return  to  Mr.  Hill's  first  engagement   with 
Mr.  Simpson.     His  success  was  most  triumphant,  and  offers 


VANKEE    HILL.  21 

came  flowing  in  from  every  part  of  the  country.  He  went 
next  to  Philadelphia  to  play  a  starring  engagement.  Mr. 
Hill's  rise  in  his  profession,  was  deservedly  rapid.  The 
public,  with  a  ready  appreciation  not  often  awarded,  were 
quick  to  see  the  merits  of  the  young  comedian,  and  willing 
to  reward  with  a  generous  patronage,  the  deserts  it  prided 
itself  in  discovering.  He  now  played  a  brilliant  star  en 
gagement  at  Philadelphia,  in  the  same  theatre  in  which, 
but  a  few  months  previously,  he  had  been  struggling  with 
an  inconsiderable  salary  of  ten  dollars  a  week. 

Mr.  Hill  spent  a  summer  in  the  Eastern  States,  for  the 
purpose  of  studying  the  Yankee  character,  and  picking  up 
such  peculiarities  of  dialect  and  expression  as  he  could, 
from  constant  communication  with  the  "  critters "  them 
selves.  In  Boston,  he  was  thus  invited  by  a  countryman 
to  visit  the  town  in  which  he  lived. 

"  Wai,  Mister  Hill,  can't  you  come  down  our  way  and 
give  us  a  show  ?" 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Hill. 

*'  Oh,  abeout  half  way  between  this  ere  and  sunrise." 

'*  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  adopting  at  once  the  style  of 
the  countryman,  "  I  know  ; — where  the  trees  grow  under 
ground,  and  gals  weigh  two  hundred  pounds.  Where 
some  on  'em  are  so  fat  they  grease  the  cart  wheels  with 
their  shadow,  and  some  on  'em  so  thin,  you  are  obliged  to 
look  at  'em  twice  afore  you  can  see  'em  at  all." 

"  Wai,  I  guess  you've  been  there :"  saying  which,  the 
countryman  departed. 

When  a  bird  flew  to  pick  at  a  bunch  of  grapes  an  artist 
had  painted,  it  was  esteemed  the  best  compliment  which 
could  have  been  paid  to  the  painter.  Equally  complimen 
tary  to  the  truthfulness  of  Mr.  Hill's  Yankee  representa- 


22  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

tions,  was  the  flattering  mistake  related  in  the  following 
incident : — 

Whilst  on  this  visit  to  the  East,  Mr.  Hill  gave  an  enter 
tainment  in  Bangor,  State  of  Maine,  assisted  by  the  Boston 
Brass  Band.  The  entertainment  was  called  on  the  bill 
"A  Musical  Olio."  In  the  course  of  the  entertainment, 
indeed,  the  first  character  he  represented  on  this  occasion, 
was  that  of  a  country  youth.  A  countryman  among  the 
audience  would  insist  upon  it  that  the  character  on  the 
stage  was  not  Mr.  Hill  at  all,  but  Seth  Snow,  a  son  of  one 
of  his  neighbors,  nor  could  all  the  persuasions  of  those  near 
him  convince  him  of  his  mistake.  As  soon  as  the  per 
formance  was  over,  he  rushed  into  Mr.  Hill's  private  room 
and  thus  addressed  him  : — 

"  Wai,  you  are  doing  nice  things  down  here,  passing 
yourself  off  for  Mr.  Hill.  What  d'ye  think  the  old  man 
would  say,  if  he  should  see  you  in  them  play-acting 
clothes.  Oh,  you  may  squirm  and  twist  your  tarnal 
mouth,  just  abeout  as  much  as  you  please,  but  you  can't 
deceive  me,  so  you  had  better  own  up.  Wai,  this  is  a 
plaguy  nice  place ;  and  what  a  mortal  lot  of  purty  picters 
you've  got  hanging  round.  I  suppose  your  getting  all 
fired  proud,  for  you  never  had  such  a  room  tew  hum." 

Without  noticing  Mr.  Hill  further,  he  turned  to  look  at 
the  pictures  which  hung  around  the  room.  Mr.  Hill  took 
advantage  of  the  opportunity,  whilst  his  visitor  was  thus 
engaged,  to  pull  off  his  coat  and  wig.  When  the  coun 
tryman  had  satisfied  his  curiosity  sufficiently,  he  turned 
round  to  speak  to  his  neighbor's  son,  Seth  Snow,  when,  to 
his  utter  astonishment,  a  perfect  stranger  stood  before  him. 

"  Why  !  how— here  !  where  is  Seth  Snow  ?" 


YANKEE    HILL.  23 

"  I  am  the  only  person  who  has  been  in  this  room  since 
you  were  here,"  said  Mr.  Hill. 

"Dew  tell!" 

"  Fact,  upon  my  honor." 

"  And  you  ain't  Seth  Snow  ?" 

'*  No  ;  my  name  is  Hill." 

"  And  you  don't  know  Seth  Snow  ?" 

"  Never  had  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance." 

"  Well,  I  never  ;  if  I  did,  may  I  be  darned.  You  !  if  it 
was  you,  just  now  looked  and  talked  jest  like  Seth  Snow, 
and  now  you  are  no  more  like  him  than  you  are  like  my 
sister  Sue.  Wai,  I  never !" 

During  this  dialogue  the  countryman  was  examining 
Mr.  Hill  with  wondering  scrutiny,  exclaiming  every  now 
and  then  "  Wai,  I  never." 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Hill,  I  hearn  "the  hull  of  your  talk 
inside  there,  but  I  don't  think  much  of  that,  cause  I  hears 
that  stuff  every  day,  to  hum, — and  I've  hearn  the  blowers, 
(meaning  the  musicians,)  but  one  part  of  the  show  you 
ain't  put  out.  No  gouging,  you  know  !  I  paid  my  money 
and  I  want  to  see  the  hull." 

*'  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  we  have  given  the  whole 
entertainment." 

"  No,  you  ain't :  do  you  see  any  thing  green,  eh  ?" 

"  I  can't  imagine  to  what  you  allude.  I'm  not  aware 
of  any  omission." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  don't  the  bill  say  that  you've  got  a 
Olio  ?  now  I  want  to  see  the  critter ;  I  never  heard  of  the 
animal  afore,  and  I'm  death  on  critters.  I  thought  maybe 
you  did  not  like  to  show  the  critter  to  the  women,  but  I 
want  to  see  the  Olio." 


24  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

Mr.  Hill,  as  may  be  imagined,  laughed  heartily  at  the 
mistake  of  the  countryman,  who,  when  he  was  made  to 
understand  the  nature  of  the  Olio,  joined  in  the  merriment, 
shook  hands  at  parting  with  Mr.  Hill,  and  begged  him,  if  he 
ever  came  down  his  way,  not  to  say  anything  about  the  Olio. 

When  we  consider  the  years  of  toil  and  struggle  which 
marked  the  slow  progress  of  such  a  man  as  Edmund 
Kean — how  reluctant  the  public  were  to  acknowledge  this 
transcendent  genius — we  cannot  but  be  struck  with  the 
good  fortune  which  waited  on  Mr.  Hill  in  his  early  career. 

One  thing,  however,  must  be  considered.  Mr.  Hill  was 
the  first  to  leave  his  footsteps  upon  an  untrodden  path, 
and,  consequently,  they  could  not  be  conpared  to,  or  con 
founded  with,  the  tracts  of  other  men.  Mr.  Kean  was 
travelling  on  a  highway,  over  which  thousands  had  passed, 
and  were  still  crowding  on.  He  had,  by  his  energy  and 
genius,  to  clear  the  track,  before  the  public  eye  could  rest 
singly  on  him,  mark  the  loftiness  of  his  gait,  the  graceful 
ness  of  his  carriage,  and  the  intellectual  dignity  of  his  whole 
bearing.  Mr.  Hill  was  fortunate  in  being  able  to  strike  out 
a  new  path  to  himself,  and  equally  fortunate  in  possessing 
the  genius  and  talent  to  maintain  its  undivided  possession. 

In  Cincinnati  and  Louisville,  Mr.  Hill  played  short  en 
gagements  with  credit  to  himself,  and  profit  to  the  man 
agements.  His  company  was  much  sought  after,  for  his 
amiable  and  gentlemanly  manners,  by  the  first  class  of 
citizens,  who  retained  their  friendly  and  respectful  regard 
for  him,  to  the  close  of  his  career.  His  social  feeling,  his 
extraordinary  faculty  of  amusing,  and  his  rich  and  varied 
store  of  anecdote  and  incident,  would  have  rendered  any 
man  a  desirable  companion ;  but  he  had,  beside  all  these, 


YANKEE    HILL.  25 

a  sterling  integrity  of  character,  which  made  him  as  much 
valued  as  a  friend,  as  prized  as  a  social  companion. 

His  engagement  at  Louisville  was  a  brilliant  one  :  he 
played  to  overflowing  houses  every  night.  He  was  next 
engaged  at  New  Orleans.  He  left  Louisville  on  board  a 
steamboat  commanded  by  Captain  Gay.  One  evening 
when  the  steamboat  had  been  detained  an  unusual  time  in 
taking  in  wood,  and  the  passengers  assembled  at  the 
supper-table,  a  very  uncouth  fellow  was  seen  seated  among 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  at  the  Captain's  table.  The 
Captain  was  too  busily  engaged  with  his  duties  to  notice 
the  queer  guest,  who  had  already  attracted  the  observation 
of  everybody  else.  His  attention  was  purposely  called  to 
the  intruder  by  a  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  know  more 
of  the  stranger  than  he  dared  to  reveal.  The  uncouth  ap 
pearance  of  the  stranger,  and  a  steamboat  captain's  stereo 
typed  regard  for  his  lady  passengers,  excited  the  indigna 
tion  of  the  commander,  and  he  told  the  waiter  to  order  the 
intruder  from  the  table. 

"  Stranger,"  says  the  waiter,  "  you  must  vamose  from 
here." 

"  Dew  tell,"  said  he,  eating  most  voraciously  all  the 
time. 

"  Stranger  !"  exclaimed  the  waiter. 

"  Wai,  dew  let  a  feller  eat  his  supper,"  and  another  leg 
of  broiled  chicken  was  dispatched. 

"  You  must  leave  the  table." 

"Why,  how  you  talk  !"  and  again  was  he  at  work  upon 
the  eatables. 

"Captain,"  said  the  waiter,  "the  stranger  won't  stir." 

"  He  won't  stir,  eh  ?"  said  the  Captain,  in  a  rage.  "  I'll 
soon  see  wlieLlier  I  am  to  be  insulted  at  niy  own  table  •" 
2 


26  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

and  with  that  the  irrate  Captain  sprang  from  his  seat,  and 
seizing  the  uninvited  guest  by  the  collar  of  his  coat, 
dragged  him  from  the  table.  The  greatest  uproar  pre 
vailed  among  the  passengers  :  some  were  for  aiding  the 
Captain,  whilst  others,  seeing  no  cause  of  offence,  except 
the  mere  fact  of  a  stranger — whom,  they  supposed,  had 
got  on  board  at  the  last  wooding — obtruding  his  presence 
in  the  wrong  place,  entreated  that  he  might  be  permitted 
to  remain.  To  the  latter  suggestion  the  Captain  was  deaf. 
There  could  not  be  two  masters  to  the  same  boat,  and  the 
Captain,  considering  he  had  a  prior  claim,  was  proceeding, 
by  a  sort  of  a  posteriori  argument,  to  assert  his  rights  : 
when  the  stranger,  not  relishing  the  idea  of  being  ticked 
out,  took  off  his  wig,  and  displayed  to  the  astonished 
Captain  and  his  passengers,  the  familiar  countenance  of  a 
friend  and  fellow-traveller,  Yankee  Hill.  The  mirth  that 
followed  was  a  sufficient  reward  to  Mr.  Hill  for  the  risks 
he  ran.  Captain  Gay  was  not  a  little  mortified  at  being 
so  completely  "taken  in  and  done  for"  by  a  man  whose 
face  was  almost  as  familiar  to  him  as  his  own.  It  was 
suggested  by  some  of  the  passengers  who  had  begged 
that  the  stranger  might  be  left  alone,  that  the  Captain 
should  be  court-martialed,  for  attempting  to  push  out  of 
the  cabin  one  of  his  most  respectable  passengers. 

The  idea  was  very  suggestive  of  fun,  and  all  agreed  that 
a  court-martial  was  a  very  respectable  and  useful  institu 
tion.  I  do  not  think  it  was  exactly  in  order  to  appoint  one 
of  the  interested  party  to  preside  as  judge  upon  this  occa 
sion,  but,  be  that  as  it  may,  Mr.  Hill  was  immediately 
*  elected  to  that  office.  Captain  Gay  was  tried,  found  guilty, 
and  condemned  to  be  shot,  or,  rather,  to  pay  the  shot 
for  the  amount  of  oysters,  champagne,  and  other  fixings, 


YANKEE    HILL.  27 

which  strict  justice  deemed  necessary  to  meet  the  offence 
he  had  committed.  And  so  terminated  the  suit  of  Jede- 
diah  Homebred  vs.  Captain  Gay. 

Mr.  Hill's  success  in  the  Crescent  City  was  as  trium 
phant  as  it  could  well  be.  He  made  many  valuable  friends 
during  this  visit.  Among  those  who  took  him  by  the 
hand  were  Col.  Wade  Hampton,  of  South  Carolina,  and 
the  late  Col.  Fitzsimmons  of  Augusta,  Georgia.  These 
very  influential  gentlemen  entertained  a  warm  and  sincere 
friendship  for  Mr.  Hill,  during  his  whole  life. 

In  the  month  of  April,  1834,  he  returned  to  New  York, 
occasionally  playing  in  Philadelphia  and  Albany.  In  Au 
gust  he  retired  to  Staten  Island,  and  spent  a  month  there, 
in  preparing  the  Knight  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  which  was 
to  be  brought  out  at  the  Park  in  the  September  following. 
While  at  Staten  Island,  Mr.  Blake,  late  of  the  Broadway 
Theatre,  waited  upon  Mr.  Hill,  and  so  far  won  upon  his 
good  nature,  as  to  induce  him  to  purchase  a  piece,  called 
"  Major  Jack  Downing,"  for  which  he  paid  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars.  I  have  reason  to  know  that  in  this  bar 
gain  Mr.  Hill's  judgment  was  not  appealed  to,  but  tha.t  his 
good  nature  was,  most  imploringly  ;  and  as  Mr.  Hill's 
whole  career  displays  a  similar  yielding  to  the  necessities 
of  others,  it  will  surprise  no  one  who  knows  the  parties,  that 
he  was  beaten  in  the  bargain.  Major  Jack  Downing  was 
scarcely  worth  the  value  of  the  paper  upon  which  it  was 
written.  I  cannot  let  this  opportunity  escape  without  pay 
ing  a  just  tribute  to  Mr.  Hill's  liberality  towards  those  who 
wrote  for  him.  Persons  unacquainted  with  the  greediness 
and  despicable  meanness  of  raannagers  generally,  towards 
authors,  will  ask,  why  I  should  pause  to  pay  a  special  trib 
ute  of  respect  to  Mr.  Hill,  for  his  liberality  in  this  particu- 


28  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

iar,  when  it  was  so  obviously  his  interest  to  encourage 
these  efforts  in  his  favor.  I  answer,  by  stating  that  it  is 
so  unusual  for  actors  or  managers,  despite  their  true  in 
terests,  to  display  anything  like  a  remunerative  liberality 
towards  those  who  write  for  them,  that  it  would  be  like 
playing  the  tragedy  of  Hamlet,  and  leaving  Hamlet's  name 
out  by  particular  desire,  to  omit  the  mention  of  this  uncom 
mon  quality  in  the  subject  of  this  biographical  sketch. 

I  know  but  few  managers  in  the  United  States  who  have 
either  the  far-seeing  wisdom,  or  the  liberality,  to  induce  the 
dramatic  mind  of  the  country  to  exercise  itself  for  the  ad 
vancement  either  of  their  interests,  or  the  interests  of  the 
Stage.  Gentlemen  of  education  and  refinement,  accustomed 
to  the  associations  of  polite  life,  will  scarcely  be  induced  to 
try  dramatic  literature,  where  the  pay  is  not  only  inconsider 
able,  but  doubtful,  and  the  certainty  of  arrogant  assump 
tion,  from  nine  managers  out  of  ten,  beyond  question. 

The  Knight  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  which  was  prepared 
during  Mr.  Hill's  sojourn  on  Staten  Island,  was  produced 
at  the  Park  in  September,  and  owing  principally  to  Mr. 
Hill's  admirable  acting  in  the  character  of  Si  Saco,  was 
successful.  Mr.  Hill  finished  his  engagement  with  eclat. 
He  next  played  in  Philadelphia  and  Pittsburg,  then  return 
ed  to  New  York,  from  which  place  he  sailed  with  Captain 
Pennoyer  for  Charleston.  He  was  received  in  that  citv 
with  great  enthusiasm.  He  next  played  a  short  term  in 
New  Orleans.  When  he  was  about  leaving  this  city, 
standing  upon  the  Levee,  waiting  for  his  baggage,  he  was 
thus  addressed  by  a  long  lean  down-easter. 

"  Say,  yeou,  which  of  these  things  slips  up  fust?" 

"What?"  said  Mr.  Hill. 

"  Which  of  these  things  slips  up  fust?*' 


YANKEE    HILL.  \J 

"  Do  you  mean  which  steamboat  goes  up  the  river 
first?" 

"  Yes.    I'll  be  darned  if  I  don't." 

"  That  one,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  pointing  to  the  nearest. 

"  I'm  in  an  awful  hurry  to  git  eout  of  this.  It  is  so  thun 
dering  hot,  and  I  smell  the  yeller  fever  all  reound." 

This  individual  had  a  very  intellectual  forehead,  measur 
ing  about  an  inch  and  a  quarter  in  height,  and  punched  in 
at  the  sides  to  match.  His  eyes  were  set  deep  in  their 
sockets,  and,  something  like  a  pig's,  only  the  color  was 
not  as  good.  His  nose  pushed  boldly  out,  as  it  started 
from  the  lower  part  of  his  forehead,  as  though  it  meant  to 
be  something,  but  when  it  had  reached  half  its  destination, 
it  bent  suddenly  in  like  a  parrot's  beak.  His  upper  lip  was 
long  and  thin,  and  was  stretched  on  a  sort  of  rack,  which 
was  made  by  a  couple  of  supernumerary  teeth,  which 
stuck  out  very  prominently.  His  chin,  too  modest  to  at 
tempt  a  rivalry  with  his  projecting  lip,  receded  back 
wards  towards  the  throat,  so  that,  to  look  at  him  in  front, 
you  did  not  perceive  that  he  had  any  chin  at  all.  His 
hair  was  very  light  and  bristly.  A  snuff-colored  coat  of 
domestic  manufacture  adorned  the  u^per  part  of  his  per 
son.  It  was  an  ancient  affair.  The  velvet  was  worn  from 
the  collar  in  several  places,  but  which  was  carefully 
patched  with  red  flannel,  being  the  nearest  approach  to 
the  original  color  of  the  collar  that  could  be  found  in  his 
domestic  menagerie  of  reserved  rags.  The  buttons,  which 
one  would  naturally  look  for  at  the  bottom  of  the  waist, 
had  wandered  up  between  his  shoulders.  The  coat  was 
remarkably  long,  extending  from  high  up  on  the  shoulders 
to  the  lower  part  of  the  calves  of  his  legs.  He  was  slight 
ly  round-shouldered,  so  that  when  he  stood  right  up,  a 


30  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

small  lady  might  have  found  shelter  in  a  rain  storm  in  the 
vacancy  left  between  the  coat  and  the  back.  His  pants,  to 
common  observers,  would  have  been  called  too  short,  but 
he  denied  this,  averring  that  his  legs  were  too  long  for  his 
trowsers.  On  his  arm  hung  an  old-fashioned  camblet  cloak, 
with  the  lining  of  green  baize  hanging  about  a  quarter  of  a 
yard  below  the  edge  of  the  camblet.  He  said  this  was  no 
fault  of  the  lining,  anyhow ;  "  it  got  wet,  and  t'other 
shrunk  a  leetle,  but  the  lining  stuck  to  it  like  blazes." 
The  Yankee  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  secure  his  passage 
by  the  first  boat,  and  he  sang  out  to  some  person,  "  Say, 
yeou,  where  is  the  Captain  of  this  consarn.  Say,  yeou, 
(to  some  one  else,)  I  want  the  Captain.  Look  here,  Nig 
ger,  show  a  feller  the  Captain.  Look  here,  you  black  sar- 
pint,  don't  stick  out  your  lips  at  me.  Wai,  I  swow,  I'll  give 
anybody  three  cents  that  will  show  me  the  Captain." 

The  Captain,  hearing  the  noise,  stepped  forward  and  told 
the  Yankee  if  he  wished  to  see  the  Captain,  he  was  com 
mander  of  the  boat. 

"  Dew  tell  ?  Wai,  1  swan,  you  have  got  a  kind  of  com 
manding  way  about  you,  that's  a  fact." 

"  What  do  you  wish  ?"  said  the  Captain. 

"Wai,  I  want  a  bathe." 

"Very  well,  jump  into  the  river,  there  is  plenty  of  water." 

"  I  tell  you,  I  want  a  bathe." 

"  Well,  don't  I  tell  you  to  jump  in,  you  can  swim  across 
if  you  like ;  we  shall  not  start  just  yet." 

"  I  want  a  bathe  to  lie  down  in.  Now  do  you  know 
what  I  mean,  darn  you  ?" 

"Oh,  you  want  a  berth  ?" 

"  Wai,  darn  you.  didn't  I  say  bathe  ?  I  know  what  I'm 
about,  I  guess." 


YANKEE    HILL.  31 

"  I  will  accommodate  you  as  far  as  I  can,"  said  the 
Captain,  "  but  I  have  nothing  but  a  mattrass  to  offer,  and 
that  is  upon  the  cabin  floor." 

"Dew  tell." 

"  It  is  the  only  one  that  is  vacant,  and  the  cabin  floor  is 
covered  with  them,  so  you  had  better  secure  it  at  once." 

"  Wai,  then,  I  guess  I'd  better  turn  right  in." 

I  omitted  to  mention  that  he  carried  a  valise  in  his 
hand.  Some  one  rather  impertinently  asked  him  what  he 
had  in  it. 

"Wai."  said  he,  "I  don't  know  that  it's  any  of  your 
business,  but  I  don't  mind  telling  on  you.  There  is  two 
shirts,  one  clean,  t'other  dirty  ;  a  pair  of  pants  about  as 
good  as  new,  only  a  leetle  worn  here  and  there,  and  a  pair 
of  pistols.  D'ye  want  I  should  take  'em  out  and  show  you." 

When  he  went  down  to  turn  in,  he  put  the  valise  under 
his  head,  wrapped  his  old  cloak  around  him,  and  threw 
himself,  as  he  said,  "  into  the  arms  of  omnibus."  The 
mattrasses  on  the  other  side  of  him,  were  occupied  by 
some  rough  Kentucky  boatmen.  In  the  middle  of  the 
night,  these  men  got  up  and  commenced  playing  cards. 
No  table  being  handy,  they  made  use  of  the  back  of  our 
Yankee  friend  for0  one,  and  chalked  the  reckoning  of  the 
game  upon  the  camblet  cloak,  which  surrounded  the  body 
of  the  unconscious  sleeper.  They  became  interested  in  the 
game,  and  began  to  lay  down  their  cards  with  a  might  of 
fist,  and  earnestness  of  manner,  which  soon  roused  up  our 
sleeping  friend.  He  attempted  to  rise,  but  was  held  down 
by  one  of  the  party,  who  exclaimed,  "  Lie  still,  stranger, 
I've  only  got  three  to  go,  and  I  hold  the  Jack." 

"  Never  mind,  I'm  a  most  smothered  here,  but  go  ahead, 
darn  you,  pl;iy  quick  and  I'll  go  you  halves."  He  accord- 


32  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

ing  lay  still,  until  they  had  finished  their  game,  but 
whether  the  Kentucky  gambler  divided  his  gains  with  his 
table,  was  never  satisfactorily  ascertained. 

Mr.  Hill  returned  safely  to  New-York,  and  played  an 
other  successful  engagement  at  the  Park.  He  next  went  to 
Philadelphia,  and  from  thence  to  Buffalo,  where  he  played 
in  the  summer  of  1836.  In  the  fall  of  this  year  he  played 
in  Petersburg!!,  Philadelphia,  and  New- York,  prior  to  his 
departure  for  the  South.  He  was  engaged  at  the  magni 
ficent  St.  Charles,  in  New- Orleans — Mr.  Caldwell  being 
manager  and  proprietor — and  he  likewise  was  engaged  by 
old  Sol  Smith,  for  Mobile. 

Mr.  Hill  sailed  from  New- York  on  the  3d  of  January, 
1837,  in  the  ship  "  Mississippi,"  commanded  by  Captain 
Robinson.  There  were  a  number  of  passengers  beside  Mr. 
Hill.  In  two  or  three  days,  when  the  sea-sickness  had 
passed  away,  he  began  to  exert  himself  to  make  the 
time  pass  merrily  along ;  and  to  any  one  acquainted  with 
his  power  of  entertainment,  I  need  scarcely  say,  how  well 
he  succeeded.  The  day  before  the  ship  arrived  at  New- 
Orleans,  the  passengers  gave  him  a  supper  on  board. 
After  supper  the  following  song  was  sung  by  Mr.  Hill,  the 
passengers  taking  up  the  chorus  with  a  will : 

Now,  friends,  the  time  is  near  at  hand, 
When  we  disperse  this  jovial  band  ; 
But  as  the  hour  approaches  near, 
Let's  still  enjoy  our  Captain's  cheer. 
Where  e'er  again  we  meet,  my  boys, 
We'll  tell  again  our  present  joys  : 
The  many  jokes,  the  pleasing  game, 
The  ladies,  and  the  Captain's  fame. 

Chorus  :  Where  e'er  again,  &c. 


i 


YANKEE    HILL.  33 

When  first  we  left  the  Eastern  shore, 

The  rough,  wide  ocean  to  explore, 

Our  hearts  beat  high  with  hope  and  fears, 

The  eyes  we  left  afloat  in  tears ; 

How  soon  the  change  with  us  appeared, 

When  free  from  sickness  all  was  reared — 

Our  natural  mirth  was  in  a  glow, 

The  juice  of  grape  did  freely  flow. 

How  soon,  &c. 

Fill  your  glasses  to  the  brim, 
This  drinking  wine  is  not  a  sin  ; 
God  bless  you  all,  on  sea  or  shore, 
1  trust  the  world  holds  many  more. 
Now  as  the  sparkling  wine  we  sip, 
We  won't  forget  this  noble  ship  : 
And  when  I  ask  it,  don't  think  ill, 
A  slight  remembrance  of  this  HILL. 

No\*  as,  &c. 

Whilst  in  New-Orleans,  he  purchased  some  real  estate 
in  Mobile,  for  which  he  paid  five  thousand  dollars.  Some 
time  afterward,  an  old  Spanish  claim  came  up  for  the  pro 
perty,  and  he  lost  every  cent  of  his  investment.  This 
is  only  one  of  a  number  of  speculations  in  which  ill  for 
tune  attended  him ;  indeed,  I  cannot  learn  that  he  ever 
succeeded  in  realizing  anything  from  any  single  venture 
which  he  made  outside  of  his  profession.  Mr.  Hill  was 
unquestionably  the  best  Yankee  on  the  stage,  and  the  very 
worst  one  off.  The  down-east  shrewdness  which  made  his 
assumption  on  the  stage  so  rich  and  racy,  formed  no  part 
of  his  character  in  matters  of  purchase  or  barter.  He 
was  simplicity  itself  on  such  occasions ;  and  when  told  by 
friends,  of  risks  he  was  running,  he  would  answer,  "  Oh ! 
2* 


34  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

my  business  will  come  out  right,  I  guess.*'  But  he  seldom 
guessed  right.  His  disposition  was  sanguine  and  confiding, 
and  he  easily  fell  a  prey  to  designing  men.  In  connection 
with  the  purchase  of  his  Mobile  property,  I  may  as  well 
relate  the  following  anecdote,  inasmuch  as  it  displays  the 
only  bit  of  shrewdness  in  money  matters  ever  exhibited 
by  him  :  It  appears  he  consulted  Robert  Morris,  Esq., 
ex-Post-Master  of  New- York,  on  a  point  of  Law — the  fee 
for  which  advice  was  five  dollars.  Mr.  Hill  visited  Mr. 
Morris,  and  when  the  advice  was  given,  he  took  out  his 
five  dollars  and  laid  it  before  his  lawyer.  Whether  Mr. 
Morris  was  astonished  to  see  a  player  with  so  large  an 
amount  of  ready  cash  or  not,  I  don't  pretend  to  say,  but  at 
any  rate,  he  remarked  to  Mr.  Hill,  that  players  were  usually 
very  imprudent  in  money  matters,  and  that  he  never  saw 
one  who  knew  how  to  take  care  of  his  money. 

"  Is  that  your  rale  opinion  of  actors  ?"  said  Mr.  Hill. 

"  It  is  ;"  replied  the  ex-Postmaster. 

"  Allow  me,  then,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  picking  up  his  money 
and  putting  it  into  his  pocket,  "  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  one  who  does  know  how  to  take  care  of  his  money. 
Good  morning,  sir."  Mr.  Morris  was  too  well  entertained 
with  the  illustration  to  detain  his  client,  and  laughingly, 
bade  him  farewell. 

After  playing  his  engagement  at  New- Orleans  and  Mo 
bile,  he  returned  to  New- York.  The  following  lines,  ad 
dressed  to  Yankee  Hill,  he  found  in  one  of  the  daily  papers 
on  his  arrival  in  the  citv : 


YANKEE    HILL.  35 

OUR    OWN    YANKEE    HILL. 

New-England,  I  love  thee,  dear  land  of  my  birth  ! 

The  sky-kissing  mountains,  where  liberty  roves  ; 
The  blossom-gemmed  meadows,  the  sweetest  on  earth, 

Thy  bright,  sunny  fields,  and  thy  musical  groves  ; 
Thy  landscapes  are  smiling  when  summer  prevails, 

And  vocal  with  melody's  amorous  trills ; 
How  sweet  are  thy  laughing  and  musical  dales, 

How  pleasant  thy  laughing  and  musical  Hills. 

I've  stray 'd  in  the  South,  o'er  savannah  and  plain, 

By  flat  fields  of  indigo,  cotton  and  rice, 
Through  richest  plantations  of  saccharine  cane, 

And  orange-groves  breathing  of  Araby's  spice  : 
But,  home  of  my  childhood,  while  absent  from  thee, 

And  feeling  I  loved  thee  more  fervently  still, 
How  sweet  to  the  wanderer,  was  it  to  see, 

A  laughing  and  musical  New-England  Hill  ? 

The  fair  of  the  South  have  acknowledged  its  worth  ; 

So  simple,  so  quiet,  so  honestly  shrewd, 
So  freight  with  the  richest  incentives  to  mirth, 

So  richly  with  wits'  sparkling  treasures  endued. 
When  Disherwill,  Jonathan,  Solomon  Swop, 

With  his  Green-Mountain  Boy,  blue  devils  to  kill, 
E'en  Beauty  must  laugh  till  she's  ready  to  drop, 

To  view  in  Mobile  such  a  green  Yankee  Hill. 

Then  welcome  him  back,  for  this  Hill  is  your  own, 

And  a  fresh  crop  of  evergreen  shadows  his  brow  ; 
By  you  were  the  seeds  of  his  laurels  first  sown — 

Let  fashion  and  opulence  foster  them  now. 
The  bright  smile  of  Beauty  will  welcome  him  home, 

The  patrons  of  Genius  will  honor  him  still  ; 
The  votaries  of  Comus  forbid  him  to  roam, — 

All  warmly  will  welcome  our  own  Yankee  Hill. 


36 


LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 


In  the  spring  of  1836  Mr.  Hill  again  appeared  at  the 
Park.  In  the  June  following  he  performed  two  weeks  at 
the  Tremont  Theatre,  Boston.  Returning  to  New  York, 
he  played  a  farewell  engagement  at  the  Park  previous  to 
his  departure  for  Europe.  A  few  days  before  he  sailed  for 
England  he  received  the  following  communication : 


YORK,  August  2d,  1 836. 
"  To  George  H.  Hill,  Esq.,  Comedian. 

"  DEAR  SIR  : — At  a  meeting  held  this  evening,  after  or 
ganization,  it  was  resolved,  that  the  present  being  a  meeting 
of  the  personal  friends  and  professional  admirers  of  Mr. 
George  Hill,  on  learning  that  it  is  his  intention  to  visit 
Europe  in  the  course  of  the  present  month,  we  will  invite 
him  to  accept  a  dinner,  to  be  given  by  us  at  the  City  Hotel, 
on  the  8th  inst.,  as  a  token  of  our  esteem  for  his  personal 
character  and  admiration  of  his  professional  excellence. 

"  In  accordance  with  which  resolution,  we,  in  the  name 
of  the  meeting,  invite  you  to  a  dinner,  to  be  given  as  an 
evidence  of  their  and  our  regard  for  your  private  virtues 
and  professional  talents,  at  the  time  and  place  above  stated. 

"  B.  BATES,  Chairman. 

"  B.  BlGNALL, 

SMITH, 


The  dinner  was  given  at  the  City  Hotel,  at  that  time  the 
Hotel  of  New  York.  It  was  numerously  attended.  The 
following  letters  were  read  after  the  cloth  was  removed  : 

"PROVIDENCE,  August  6th,  1830. 

"  DEAR  SIR  : — It  is  with  unfeigned  regret  that  I  inform 
you  of  my  inability  to  be  present  at  the  dinner  to  be  given 


YANKEE    HILL.  37 

to  our  friend  Mr.  Hill,  prior  to  his  departure  for  Europe. 
A  letter  from  you  first  introduced  Mr.  Hill  to  my  acquaint 
ance,  and  I  ought,  long  ere  this  time,  to  have  acknowledged 
my  indebtedness  to  you  for  the  pleasure  I  have  derived 
from  that  acquaintance.  He  is  too  well  known  in  his  career 
before  the  public,  to  allow  me  to  say,  that,  as  a  friend,  a 
true-hearted  one,  and  as  a  gentleman,  I  esteem  him  most 
highly.  May  he  be  a  star  in  Europe,  and  succeed  in  show 
ing  John  Bull  what  brother  Jonathan  is  in  his  true  char 
acter.  I  will  thank  you  to  show  him  this  letter,  and  present 
him  my  warmest  regards.  I  forward  you  a  sentiment  for 
this  occasion  : 

"  The  Yankee  Character.  It  has  been  perverted  and 
maligned  by  the  Halls  and  Trollopes  of  Europe.  If  through 
the  modesty  of  our  countrymen  its  beauty  has  been  '  hid 
under  a  bushel/  may  it  soon  be  seen  '  on  the  house-top,' 
and  conspicuous  on  the  Hill" 

"  Yours,  with  respect, 

"  W.  R.  DANFORTH. 

"  S.  J.  SMITH,  Esq." 


YORK,  August  8th,  1836. 

"  SIR  :  —  Your  note  of  the  5th  inst.  did  not  come  to  hand 
in  time  for  an  earlier  reply.  I  regret  that  it  is  not  in  my 
power  to  avail  myself  of  the  very  kind  invitation  of  the 
Committee  to  be  present  at  the  dinner  to  be  given  to  Mr. 
Hill,  being  on  the  point  of  setting  off  for  the  country.  I 
beg  you  to  make  my  grateful  acknowledgments  to  the 
Committee  for  the  honor  they  have  done  me,  and  believe 
me,  very  respectfully,  your  obliged'  obd't  servant, 

"  WASHINGTON  IRVING." 

"  S.  JENKS  SMITH,  Esq." 


38  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

On  this  pleasant  occasion  he  was  presented  with  a  silver 
pitcher,  which  bore  the  following  inscription :     - 

PRESENTED  TO 

GEORGE    H.    HILL,    ESQ., 

AS  A  SLIGHT  TOKEN  OF  THE  RESPECT  AND  ESTEEM 

OF  A  FEW  OF  HIS 
YANKEE  FRIENDS  IN  NEW  YORK. 

The  compliment  of  such  a  presentation  had  at  that  time 
an  intrinsic  value.  It  had  not  then,  as  now,  become  an  idle 
ceremony,  indiscriminately  bestowed  upon  the  undeserving 
and  the  deserving.  A  captain  of  a  vessel,  now-a-days,  who 
is  simply  civil  to  his  passengers  and  is  careful  and  prudent 
in  the  conduct  of  his  ship,  where  his  own  life  and  interests 
are  at  stake,  is  so  often  made  the  recipient  of  a  compli 
ment  of  this  kind,  that  the  thing  has  degenerated  into  a 
senseless  farce.  Mr.  Hill  used  to  tell  a  story  of  a  presen 
tation  scene  he  once  witnessed  in  a  country  town  in  the 
interior  of  the  State  of  New  York.  A  military  company 
were  desirous  of  presenting  their  captain  with  a  testimonial 
of  their  approbation  of  his  services  as  a  soldier  and  a  man, 
for,  as  one  of  the  resolutions  expressed  it,  "  he  was  always 
foremost  in  the  hour  of  danger,"  meaning,  I  suppose,  that 
he  had  had  the  temerity  to  stand  within  six  yards  of  the 
target  on  one  of  their  excursions.  A  silver  cup  was  pur 
chased,  and  it  was  presented  in  the  following  fashion  : 

"Captain,"  said  the  gentleman   honored  with  the  duty 
of  making  the  presentation,  u  Captain,  there  be  the  jug." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  Captain,  "  are  that  the  jug  ?" 

"It  are,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Nuff  ced,"  exclaimed   the   Captain,  "  and  now  let  us 
liquor." 


YANKEE    HILL.  39 

Mr.  Hill  left  New  York  in  the  packet  ship  Oxford,  Cap 
tain  Rathbun,  in  the  month  of  August,  1836.  Among  the 
passengers  was  the  Hon.  Charles  A.  Murray,  now  Master 
of  the  Queen's  Household.  He  was  returning  from  his 
tour  through  the  United  States,  the  particulars  of  which 
he  has  given  in  a  very  impartial  and  entertaining  book  of 
travels.  He  formed  a  very  sincere  attachment  to  Mr.  Hill, 
and  took  every  occasion  during  Mr.  Hill's  residence  in 
England  to  evince  the  deep  interest  he  had  in  his  success. 

Mr.  Hill  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  party  on  board, 
and  they  used  to  assemble  in  the  cabin  of  an  evening,  and 
listen  for  hours  to  his  amusing  stories.  The  following  rela 
tion  was  delivered  on  one  of  these  occasions  : — 

"Ike  Marble  came  driving  the  Deacon's  mare  along  one 
day,  like  nothin  !  *  Well,  Sol/  says  he,  'yer  goin'  to 
uncle  Ephs  ?'  '  Why,'  says  I,  « I  ain't .  fixed  up  nor 
nothin'.'  '  Jump  in,'  says  he,  and  he  took  me  by  the 
coat-collar  and  pulled  me  in  kerchunk.  Away  we  went : 
we  skipped  over  the  airth  like  real  tearers  ;  pretty  directly 
we  brought  up  to  uncle  Ephs,  all  standing  like  an  empty 
bag  full  of  nothin'.  Well,  in  I  goes  into  the  parlor  and  sot 
myself  down  right  alongside  of  uncle  Ephs'  Betty.  Says 
I,  '  Betty,  how  d'ye  due  ?'  I  couldn't  git  along  a  bit 
though,  for  she  blushed  just  like  a  blue  carrot.  Presently 
in  come  Nancy  Slocum,  Ike  Marble,  and  a  hull  lot  more  of 
gals  and  fellers.  By  jingo,  I  never  seed  the  like  afore,  and. 
there  was  I  settin'  right  in  the  wrong  place,  for  the  gals 
all  seemed  to  take  a  taring  liking  to  that  room.  Bime  by, 
Nance  says,  '  Sol,  will  you  go  in  t'other  room.'  Confound 
it,  thinks  I,  you  got  another  room  ?  Howsomdever  I  did 
go  in,  and  arter  a  little  while  supper  was  got  ready,  and  I 
took  my  stand  right  behind  the  door  so  as  to  see  the  gals 


40  LIFE   AND   RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

as  they  went  out  by  one  room  into  t'other ;  presently  some 
body  said,  *  Better  shut  the  door  tew  ;'  slam  went  the  door. 
'  Boo  !'  says  I,  and  they  all  cried  out,  '  Why,  Sol.'  They 
opened  their  mouths  wide  enough  to  swaller  a  haymow. 
At  last  I  got  sot  right  down  between  Nancy  Slocum  and 
Sal  Barton,  with  a  large  chunk  of  pumpkin-  pie  in  one  hand, 
and  Nancy's  hand  in  t'other.  Just  as  I  was  goin'  to  ask 
Nancy  if  she  loved  apple  sarce,  in  comes  Ike  Marble  with 
his  white  trowsers  all  daubed  with  mud  ;  it  sot  me  a  larfin 
so,  right  afore  Sal  Barton  tew,  that  I  dropped  a  great  junk 
of  pumpkin  pie  right  slap  on  Sal  Barton's  new  gown  :  then 
sich  a  time  :  Sal  jumped  up,  Ike  looked  blue,  Nancy  blush 
ed,  and  I  sneaked  out.  Oh !  I  swow  if  I  ain't  one  of  the 
most  unlucky  critters  that  ever  breathed.  Tryin'  to  git  out 
of  the  way,  I  went  into  uncle  Ephs  cupboard  and  sot  my 
self  slap  down  in  one  of  aunt  Nab's  custard  puddings. 
Oh,  dear !  as  I  was  fumbling  round  to  git  out,  down  come 
a  bottle  of  pepper-sarce  into  nine  hundred  pieces. 
'  Mercy  !'  screamed  Nancy,  '  what's  in  our  cupboard  ?' 
The  door  flew  in  and  I  flew  out,  all  dripping  with  custard, 
bang  agin  Nance,  chunk  agin  Sal  Barton,  out  through  the 
porch,  and  over  the  bridge,  as  if  Satan  was  arter  me,  and 
if  you  catch  me  there  agin  you'll  catch  a  white  weazel 
asleep,  I  tell  you." 

During  the  passage  across  the  Atlantic,  Messrs.  Murray 
and  Hill  used  to  issue  a  daily  paper,  which  was  a  source 
of  infinite  amusement  to  the  little  public  of  which  they 
were  the  head  and  front.  I  regret  that  I  have  it  not  in 
my  power  to  present  several  numbers  of  this  Atlantic 
Journal.  The  following  communications  appeared  in  one 
which  has  been  preserved : — 


YANKEE    HILL.  41 

"  BE$TH  LODGE,  STEERAGE  COUNTY, 
"August  27th,  1836. 

"  Messrs.  Kinderer,  Murray,  Hill  &  Co., 

"  GENTLEMEN  : — Ever  since  I  moved  into  this  coun 
try,  I  have  been  very  much  interested  in  the  case  of  an 
unfortunate  woman  who  resides  in  my  vicinity.  She  is 
daily  pining  away,  without  any  disease  that  medical  skill  can 
detect.  When  I  first  knew  her  she  was  almost  a  skeleton: 
she  has  now  but  a  thin  transparent  covering  to  her  bones. 
The  sight  of  her  has  been  so  piteous  as  often  to  take  away  my 
appetite,  especially  when  the  vessel  works  and  rocks  more 
than  usual.  She  refuses  all  consolation,  and  has  never, 
till  this  very  day,  made  any  disclosures  of  the  sercet  of  her 
suffering.  Yesterday  morning,  as  I  was  reading  the  Last 
Breeze,  I  was  startled  by  a  sudden  scream ;  I  looked  up 
and  saw  her  falling,  while  No.  4,  who  had  evidently  been 
talking  with  her,  was  endeavoring  in  vain  to  support  her ; 
she  fell  senseless.  We  used  water,  Cologne,  &c.,  while 
Doctor  Lobelia  was  sent  for,  but  all  our  efforts  and  his 
were  ineffectual.  The  hottest  steamings  produced  no  im 
pression  upon  her.  We  were  giving  her  up  as  a  gone  case, 
the  only  case  he  had  ever  lost,  the  Doctor  said,  when  she 
had  revived  enough  to  say,  '  Oh  Sol ;'  but  instead  of  pro 
ceeding  in  her  Latin  invocation  to  the  sun,  as  we  supposed 
it,  she  fell  back,  became  drowsy,  and  slept  till  this  morn 
ing.  The  Doctor  seeing  that  nothing  more  was  to  be  done 
for  her  at  present,  first  asked  me  if  he  should  look  to  me 
for  his  fee,  then  discoursed  upon  the  blessings  of  the  Thom- 
sonian  practice ;  then  took  the  two  Latin  words  she  had 
uttered  as  a  theme  for  a  phrenological  harangue  to  the  au 
dience,  which  had  now  gathered  round  him.  '  Only  think, 
said  he,  'of  Latin  from  a  woman  of  her  condition,  ho\i 


42  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

wonderful !'  '  You,  none  of  you  understand  it,  but  I  do.  I 
see  it  in  her  eyes ;  only  look,  how  prominent,'  for  in  truth 
her  flesh  had  fallen  away  so  that  they  stood  out  like  gog 
gles.  But  I  ought  not  to  repeat  his  discourse,  which  was 
so  eloquent,  that  the  audience  upon  the  spot  formed  a 
phrenological  society,  and  voted  to  request  a  copy  for  the 
press  ;  you  will,  no  doubt,  be  applied  to  to  print  it.  This 
morning  the  poor  woman  seems  quite  bright  and  has  ap 
plied  to  me  to  write  to  you  in  her  behalf,  as  she  is  not  able 
to  write  herself.  Her  yesterday's  emotion  was  occasioned, 
she  says,  by  hearing  from  No.  4,  that  a  man  had  been 
seen  in  your  country  calling  himself  Solomon,  and  mention 
ing  her  name  with  Sal  Barton.  She  has  no  doubt  but 
that  it  is  her  sweetheart,  Solomon  Snifflenose,  the  deacon's 
son,  and  as  her  life  depends  on  his  being  found,  she  wishes 
you  to  advertise  him  in  your  extensively  read  and  highly 
valued  paper. 

"  Your  friend  and  subscriber, 

"  ZERUBBABEL  SKINNER. 

"  P.  S. — I  enclose  an  advertisement  and  a  letter  for  Mr. 
Snifflenose,  should  he  be  found. 

"LOST,  STRAYED,   OR  STOLEN, 

"  A  first-rate  Sweetheart,  27  years  old,  5  feet  4  inches  in 
height,  weighing  149  pounds.  He  has  a  round  faee,  lips 
that  turn  up  most  bewitchingly  at  the  corners ;  is  a  charm 
ing  little  fellow  every  way,  and  answers  to  the  name  of 
Solomon,  or,  more  commonly,  Sol  Snifflenose.  I  have  no 
money,  but  any  one  that  will  give  me  information  where 
said  Solomon  may  be  found,  will  do  more  than  I  can  tell, 
for  a  distressed  maiden ;  and  if  any  person  will  seize  him 


YANKEE    HILL.  43 

and  fetch  him  right  to  me,  he  shall  have  the  first  cent  I 

find  in  the  ashes 

her 

"Witness,,  NANCY  M  SLOCUM. 

"  ZERUBBABEL  SKINNER.  mark. 

"  N.B. — He  must  be  treated  kindly. 

"  DEAR  SOL,— I  take  my  pen  in  hand,  or  rather  Mr. 
Skinner  (don't  squint,  Sol,  he  is  50  years  old,  and  has  got  a 
wife  and  children),  takes  it  for  me.  I'm  in  such  a  taking, 
Sol,  I  can't  write  to  inform  you  that  I  am  in  good  health, 
and  hope  you  enjoy  the  same  blessing — (Mr.  Solomon,  I, 
the  penman,  Z.  Skinner,  must  interrupt  the  course  of  the 
epistle,  to  say  that  this  is  a  lie,  told  so  as  not  to  hurt  your 
feelings  ;  she  is  as  sick  as  she  can  be  and  live,  and  is  dying 
to  see  you.)  Oh  !  Sol,  what  a  spot  of  work  you  made 
when  you  run  into  that  closet  and  then  run  away  from  me. 
Oh !  dear,  dear  !  did  you  know,  Sol,  what  tender  affections 
you  were  crushing  in  the  bud,  you'd  never  have  sneaked 
out  so,  after  having  thrown  so  many  sheep's  eyes,  and  a 
squeezing  my  hand,  so  as  eenmost  to  make  the  tears  come. 
What  if  you  did  sit  down  in  mother's  pudding  ?  'twas  clean 
dirt ;  and  if  you  don't  like  the  cow's  milk  you  need  not  kill 
the  heifer  calf  to  spite  her.  Oh  !  I  shall  die,  Sol — (a  sigh 
here  as  long  as  your  father's  nose,  Mr.  Solomon. — Z.  S.)  if 
you  don't  come  back.  When  you  run  I  took  arter  you  as 
you'd  a  seen  if  you'd  look  back,  but  I  might  as  soon  have 
thought  of  catching  a  weazel,  or  legging  it  arter  a  streak  of 
lightning.  I  went  home,  but  I  could  not  eat  any  more 
than  our  white  pig,  when  the  black  one  had  rooted  his 
trough  over.  So,  one  night,  I  took  a  bundle  of  clothes  and 
sot  out,  to  see  if  it  I  could  not  find  you.  I  heard  you  were 
seen  on  your  way  to  New  York.  I  followed  on,  and  who 


44  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

should  I  see,  as  I  was  trudging  down  Broadway,  with  the 
houses  on  both  sides  as  thick  as  Sue's  pumpkins,  but  Jerry 
Snaggers.  He  told  how  you  were  going  to  old  England, 
and  he  guessed  as  the  great  folks  there  would  snicker  well 
to  see  such  a  sloony  of  a  Yankee  among  them.  I  wanted 
to  pull  his  whiskers  for  him,  but,  says  I,  'twon't  do  here 
'fore  folks,  and  asked  him  how  you  were  going  ?  He  said 
he  did  not  know,  but  a  new  ship  was  jist  on  the  start  and 
if  I  went  in  it  I  should  be  sure  of  getting  there  as  soon  or 
sooner  than  he,  so  I  looked  as.  pleasant  as  a  basket  of  chips 
and  asked  him  to  go  with  me  to  get  on  board  :  so  we  went ; 
and  the  Captain  asked  me  whether  I  would  go  as  a  cabin 
or  steerage  passenger  ?  '  Which  gets  there  first  ?'  says  I, 
*  Why  there  ain't  much  difference,'  says  he,  'but  if  without 
we  back  in  the  steerage  folks  have  a  little  the  best  chance,' 
so  I  took  his  advice  and  went  right  aboard.  IVe  looked 
for  you  ever  since  and  axed  some  sly  questions  for  you,  but 
till  just  now,  (the  poor  woman  has  no  idea  of  the  lapse  of 
time,  Mr.  Snifflenose. — Z.  S.)  I've  supposed  you  were  in 
some  other  ship.  Oh  !  Jiffins,  how  Bill  made  me  jump. 
I  thought  I  should  have  gone  out  of  my  skin.  And 
now  I'm  in  sich  pewter  basin.  But  do  come  and  see  me, 
Sol.  You  will,  won't  you,  Sol  ?  Don't  say  you  won't,  Sol ; 
now,  you  won't,  Sol,  will  you  ?  Your  best  friend, 

" NANCY  SLOCUM. 

"  She  cried  so  here,  that  she  could  not  tell  me  anything 
more,  and  as  the  mail  is  just  going  she  wants  me  to  put 
down  her  name  and  send  it  off.  Yours,  &c., 

-Z.  S." 

Mr.  Hill  arrived  safely  at  Liverpool,  and  after  a  short 
stay  there,  proceeded  at  once  to  London. 


YANKEE    HILL.  45 

We  may  regret  as  much  as  we  please  that  we  have  not 
more  independence  of  judgment  on  this  side  the  Atlantic  > 
than  to  be  influenced  by  the  fiat  of  a  London  audience  in 
dramatic  affairs :  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  we  are  so,  and 
all  the  regrets  and  sarcasm  in  the  world  to  the  contrary,  it 
will  have  weight  among  us.  Mr.  Hill  was  fully  impressed 
with  the  important  bearing  his  success  or  failure  in  London 
would  have  upon  his  fortune  in  the  United  States,  and  this 
added  to  the  doubts  and  fears  which  every  actor  would 
feel  in  appearing  before  a  strange  audience,  made  him 
excessively  nervous  and  anxious  about  his  appearanceT} 
The  Yankee  dialect  was  but  little,  if  at  all,  known  in  Lon 
don  ;  and  he  knew  that  his  success  must  depend  on  some 
thing  more  solid  than  the  mere  delivery  of  quaint  sayings 
in  a  strange  and  peculiar  dialect.  Mr.  Hill,  in  contempla 
tion  of  the  hazard  he  was  running  in  venturing  upon  entirely 
new  ground  before  a  British  audience,  often  had  his  mis 
giving  upon  the  propriety  of  the  step  he  had  taken.  At 
home,  he  stood  alone  the  representative  of  the  Yankee 
character ;  he  was  applauded  to  the  very  echo  wherever  he 
appeared,  and  not  a  theatre  in  the  Union  which  was  not 
open  to  him  whenever  he  chose  to  engage :  but  he  felt, 
that  if  he  failed  in  his  present  enterprise,  his  brilliant  pros 
pects  at  home  would  be,  if  not  entirely  blighted,  at  least 
materially  dimmed. 

Mr.  Hill  was  engaged  by  Mr.  Bunn,  then  lessee  of 
Drury  Lane,  to  appear  at  that  establishment.  Mr.  Bernard, 
the  well-known  dramatic  author,  was  employed  by  Mr.  H. 
to  prepare  a  new  piece  for  his  debut.  The  Yankee  Pedlar 
was  the  result,  and  in  this  piece  Mr.  Hill  made  his  first  bow 
to  a  British  audience.  Mr.  Price,  the  able  partner  of  the 
late  Edmund  Simpson,  Esq.,  was  exceedingly  kind  to  him, 


46  LIFE    AND    KECOLLECTIONS    OF 

and  did  and  said  all  he  could  to  encourage  him.  A  few 
days  before  he  appeared,  Mr.  H.  received  the  following  note 
from  Mr.  P.  : 

"  Mr  DEAR  SIR  :  I  understand  you  have  been  very  much 
annoyed  by  some  remarks  of  Mr.  Bentley's.  It  was  cer 
tainly  bad  taste  in  him  to  mention  to  you  his  dissatisfaction, 
which  I  presume  arises  from  the  part  assigned  him.  You 
are  to  remember  you  want  all  your  nerve,  and  I  am  quite 
sure  you  may  depend  upon  a  warm  reception.  Go  on, 
fearlessly,  and  you  need  have  no  dread  of  the  result.  You 
will  have  many  warm  friends  in  the  house  who  will  support 
you.  Yours,  truly,  S.  PRICE." 

The  eventful  evening  at  length  arrived.  Public  expecta 
tion  had  been  much  excited  by  the  novelty  about  to  be 
presented  for  its  enjoymnnt,  and  the  house,  on  the  evening 
of  Mr.  Hill's  appearance,  was  full  of  the  fashion  and 
beauty  of  London.  He  was  received  with  the  utmost 
enthusiasm,  for  there  was  that  in  the  manner  of  his  entrance 
which  at  once  impressed  upon  the  minds  of  the  audience 
that  a  genuine  artist  had  made  his  entree.  How  well  he 
succeeded  may  be  seen  by  the  following  notices  which 
appeared  in  the  London  papers. 

Mr.  Hill  thus  wrote  to  his  friend  Wood  worth  : 

"LONDON,  Dec.  12,  1836. 

"  MY  DEAR  WOODWORTH  '.  I  was  most  happy  to  receive 
your  kind  favor  bearing  date  Nov.  16th,  but  grieve  to  hear 
that  you  have  been  so  afflicted  with  your  eyes  as  to  cause 
your  resignation  at  the  '  Navy  Yard,  Boston/  Before 
this  can  reach  you,  you  will  have  heard  of  my  success  at 


YANKEE    HILL.  47 

'  Drury  Lane,'  which  was  most  triumphant.  Cordelia 
(I  believe)  has  a  letter  from  me,  which  contains  the  account 
of  my  first  appearance  here,  which  I  have  no  doubt  she 
will  read  to  you.  I  am  pleased  to  hear  you  have  done 
something  more  for  the  American  Drama ;  let  authors  and 
actors  work  for  each  other  in  our  beloved  country,  and  the 
time  is  not  far  distant  when  we  shall  build  a  dramatic  fame 
among  us,  which  will  be  the  envy  of  the  world.  I  am  so 
much  engaged  at  this  period,  that  I  cannot  give  you  as  long 
a  letter  as  I  wished,  but  promise  one  when  I  am  more  at 
leisure.  Remember  me  to  your  family,  and  believe  me,  as 
ever,  Your  sincere  friend,  G.  H.  HILL." 

"  S.  Woodworth,  Esq" 


FROM  THE  LONDON  TIMES,  Nov.  2,  1836. 

"  DRURY  LANE  THEATRE. — One  of  the  most  curious  and 
novel  representations  that  our  stage  has  seen,  was  exhibited 
last  night,  in  the  performance  of  Mr.  Hill,  an  American 
comic  actor.  Mr.  Hill,  it  seems,  has  been  extremely  popu 
lar  in  America,  for  the  humorous  fidelity  with  which  he  has 
portrayed  the  characteristics  of  Yankees,  a  race  whose 
peculiarities  excite  no  small  degree  of  mirth  among  the 
nephews  and  nieces  of  Uncle  Sam.  The  sketches  of  the 
late  Mr.  Mathews  and  the  lucubrations  of  Major  Downing 
and  Colonel  Crockett,  have  given  us  some  notion  of  the 
oddities  of  the  down-easters.  Mr.  Hill's  personations 
furnish  a  finished  picture,  of  the  accuracy  of  which  we  have 
no  reason  to  doubt,  and  of  the  whimsicality  of  which  we 
readily  bear  witness  to.  But  the  true  merit  of  his  acting  is, 
that  he  gives  a  perfect  picture  of  a  very  odd  character 


48  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

hitherto  very  slightly  known  on  our  stage,  and  proves  in 
that  power  of  humor  which  is  somewhat  rare  and  always 
highly  attractive,  he  can  fairly  take  his  stand  among  the 
best  low  comedy  actors  we  possess.  He  was  received  with 
great  applause,  his  jokes  produced  abundant  laughter,  and 
the  audience  seemed  so  to  relish  the  whim  of  the  represen 
tation,  that  he  can  hardly  fail  to  become  a  favorite.  He 
was  called  for,  after  the  close  of  the  piece,  and  his  an 
nouncement  of  its  repetition  was  received  with  universal 
approbation.  Some  more  such  importations  as  Mr.  Forrest 
and  Mr.  Hill,  and  our  dramatic  freights  to  America  will  be 
brought  much  more  directly  under  the  reciprocity  system 
than  they  have  hitherto  been." 


FROM  THE  LONDON  GLOBE,  OF  NOVEMBER  2,  1836. 

"  DRURY-LANE. — Mr.  Hill,  who  has  obtained  pretty  con 
siderable  celebrity  in  America,  by  his  droll  performance  of 
Yankee  characters,  last  night  submitted  his  pretensions  to 
the  approval  of  a  London  audience,  who  were  highly 
amused  with  his  quaint  humor,  and  awarded  him  a  hearty 
welcome,  and  applauded  his  exertions  as  vehemently  as 
the  most  ardent  of  his  countrymen  could  desire ;  the  au 
dience  seemed  fully  determined  to  prove  how  happy  they 
were  to  acknowledge  talent  from  wherever  it  might  come, 
'  and  went  the  whole  hog'  in  expressing  their  approval  of 
the  '  stranger's  '  talents.  A  new  '  local'  and  characteristic 
sketch,  in  one  act,  entitled  '  The  Yankee  Pedlar ;  or,  Old 
Times  in  Virginia,'  was  prepared  for  Mr.  Hill's  appearance. 
It  is  from  the  ready  pen  of  Mr.  Bernard,  and,  as  a  ^-iece  de 


YANKEE    HILL.  49 

circonstance,  merits  commendation.  Its  leading  incidents 
serve  to  portray  the  peculiarities  of  that  portion  of  our  trans- 
Atlantic  brethren  termed  'Yankees,'  or  in  their  expressive 
vocabulary  '  Down-Easters.'  Mr.  Hill  sustained,  in  the 
piece,  the  part,  of  Hiram  Dodge,  a  Yankee  pedlar,  a  coun 
terpart  of  our  '  canny  Yorkshire  lad.'  Not  finding  a  mar 
ket  for  his  razors,  which  he  assured  his  customers,  if  oiled, 
and  put  under  the  pillow  at  night,  would  astonish  the 
buyer,  who  would  find  himself  clean  shaved  when  he  awoke 
in  the  morning,  he  becomes  successively  a  servant,  a  con 
fidant,  a  carpenter,  and  jockey,  with  a  view  to  gain  unap 
propriated  dollars,  and  is  at  last  brought  upon  the  stage 
defunct,  having  been  thrown  from  a  horse  in  a  race  ;  he, 
however,  revives  with  alacrity,  upon  hearing  his  quondam 
master  exclaim,  he  would  give  forty  dollars  if  he  were  alive 
again,  and  clenches  the  offer  at  the  instant.  The  principal 
attraction  and  peculiarity  of  the  performance  was  the 
quaint,  dry  humor  of  the  actor,  and  the  many  odd  phrases 
and  similes  interspersed  throughout  the  dialogue.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  piece,  Mr.  Hill  was  liberally  applauded 
by  the  audience,  and  called  forward  to  receive  the  expres 
sion  of  their  approbation." 


FROM  THE  LONDON  TRUE  SUN,  NOVEMBER  2,  1836. 

"DRURY-LA.NE. — Our  heart  always  warms  to  an  American 
in  England  :  still  more  to  an  American  on  the  English 
stage.  We  went  prepared  to  greet  Mr.  Hill  with  cordiality, 
and  predisposed  to  be  pleased.  We  need  not  have  fostered 
a  friendly  feeling  towards  him.  He  bad  not  been  ten 
8 


50  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

minutes  on  the  boards  ere  lie  had  deserved  aud  commanded 
it  from  every  man,  woman,  and  child.  There  is  a  bon- 
hommie  about  the  man,  which  attaches  one  to  him  before 
one  has  had  time  to  appreciate  his  original  and  very  effec 
tive  powers  of  humor.  He  was  very  diffident  on  his  first 
appearance,  and  never  perfectly  gained  confidence.  His 
manner  of  mingling  gravity  and  grins  is  irresistibly  comical. 
'His  smiles,'  aptly  observes  a  brother  critic,  'are  like  fits 
of  sunshine  on  a  cloudy  day.'  A  Yankee  pedlar  is  a  hybrid 
animal,  of  a  class  so  thoroughly  indigenous,  that  none  but 
a  Yankee  of  native  acquaintance  with  its  characteristics, 
could  meetly  personate  its  peculiarities.  This,  Mr.  Hill, 
we  rather  imagine,  did  for  the  first  time  last  night.  He  is 
a  valuable  addition  to  Mr.  Bunn's  corps.  When  called  for 
at  the  close,  his  heart  was  evidently  full.  We  have  wit 
nessed  '  a  return  thank'  speech  from  a  countryman  of  his, 
to  which  Mr.  Hill's  uncalculating  and  heartfelt  incoherence 
presented  an  admirable  contrast." 


FROM   THE    LONDON    CHRONICLE,    NOVEMBER    2,    1836. 

"  DRURY-LANE. — The  entertainments  at  this  theatre  last 
night,  besides  the  Siege  of  Rochelle  and  Der  Frieschutz, 
(two  full-grown  operas,  a  musical  repast  more  than  suffi 
cient  for  the  most  voracious  appetite,)  consisted  of  '  a  local 
characteristic  sketch,  in  one  act,  called  the  Yankee  Pedlar; 
or  Old  Times  in  Virginia.'  This  is  evidently  a  genuine 
American  production ;  and  it  served,  too,  to  bring  before 
the  English  public  another  American  actor  of  merit.  We 
cannot  describe  Mr.  Hill  in  this  part  farther  than  by  saying 


YANKEE    HILL.  51 

that  in  aspect,  gait,  dress,  language,  and  dialect,  he  com 
pletely  realizes  the  conceptions  we  had  previously  formed 
of  the  singular  race  whose  representative  he  is.  Some  of 
his  Yankeeisms  were  beyond  our  conception,  but  the  pic 
ture  altogether  was  delightfully  quaint,  humorous,  and 
witty  ;  and  the  audience  showed  their  relish  of  it  by  inces 
sant  laughter  and  applause.  The  plaudits  at  the  end  of 
the  piece  were  prolonged  till  Mr.  Hill  made  his  appearance 
to  make  his  acknowledgments." 


FROM   THE    LONDON    COURIER,    NOVEMBER    2,    1836. 

"  DRURY-LANE. — Last  night,  an  amusing  trifle,  called 
The  Yankee  Pedlar,  introduced  a  Mr.  Hill,  a  transatlantic 
brother,  to  a  London  audience.  The  story  turns  upon  a 
peddling  body  (Mr.  Hill),  who  introduces  himself,  by  means 
of  an  intercepted  letter  to  one  Colonel  Bantam,  a  fowl- 
breeding,  horse-rearing,  Virginian  planter,  as  a  jockey  to 
ride  in  a  match  pending  between  the  Colonel  and  a  friend. 
Having  made  his  way  into  the  Colonel's  house,  he  begins 
to  mend  the  furniture,  play  the  spy  upon  the  daughter  and 
her  lover  incognito  :  takes  money  of  the  last  not  to  discover 
him  to  the  father,  and  finds  it  equally  worth  his  while  to 
break  his  contract.  Meanwhile,  the  fraudulency  of  his  in 
trusion  is  discovered,  and  he  is  entrusted  with  a  note  to 
the  Colonel's  slave-driver,  which  is  intended  to  procure  him 
a  small  amount  of  lashes ;  but  he  discovers  the  intention, 
gives  the  responsive  to  the  original  bearer  of  the  introduc 
tory  letter,  and  offers  to  ride  for  the  Colonel's  antagonist. 
The  Colonel's  horse  is  rode  by  the  young  lady's  lover,  to 


52  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

whom  the  Yankee  pedlar  loses  the  race,  and  the  winner  is 
rewarded  with  a  wife.  The  honest  pedlar  is  full  of  Yan- 
keeisms,  colloquial,  moral  and  gesticulative,  which  lose  none 
of  their  point  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Hill.  The  new  actor  is 
of  an  agreeable  appearance ;  he  is  slight  in  figure  with  a 
particularly-pleasant  countenance,  and  a  pleasant  smile, 
as  far  as  the  very  confined  nature  of  the  part  allowed  him, 
Mr.  Hill  displayed  great  humor  and  animal  spirits.  He 
was  cordially  received,  and  his  agreeable  address  soon  made 
him  friends  with  the  audience." 


FROM  THE  LONDON  JOHN  BULL,  NOV.  6th,  1836. 

"  At  DRURY-LANE,  they  have  received  another  '  help  ' 
from  America.  Tragedy  and  comedy  have  both  visited  us 
from  beyond  the  Atlantic;  it  is  but  just  to  the  actors  to 
state,  and  also  to  the  public,  that  their  reception  has  been 
honorable  to  each.  Mr.  Hill,  as  well  as  Mr.  Forrest,  has 
established  his  reputation  in  his  own  country  ;  his  experi 
ment,  also,  as  to  how  far  John  Bull  would  sanction  the 
verdict  of  Brother  Jonathan,  has  been  satisfactory  to  him. 
We  are  glad  of  this  ;  our  own  players  have,  in  general, 
met  with  fair  and  liberal  treatment  in  the  States,  and  it  is 
pleasant  to  return  the  compliment.  The  peculiarities  of 
the  'Yankees,' — a  class,  and  not  the  people  of  the  United 
States, — have  been  already  rendered  familiar  to  us.  Ma- 
thews  took  them  off,  and  so  did  one  of  themselves,  two  or 
three  years  ago :  Mr.  Hill  comes  to  England  for  the  ex 
press  purpose  of  furnishing  us  with  his  '  notions  '  of  their 
oddities,  and  does  it  with  irresistible  humor  and  • 


YANKEE    HILL.  53 

He  plays  at  Drury-Lane,  the  part  of  a  Yankee  Pedlar,  a 
sleek,  plausible,  laborious,  and  enterprising  rogue,  with  a 
dialect  and  phraseology  to  be  found  universal  among  his 
fellows,  but  nowhere  else  in  the  world. 

"  Of  such  novel  materiel  Mr.  Hill  makes  a  great  deal. 
Every  word  he  utters  tells  :  and  the  audience  roars  duriug 
the  whole  of  the  time  he  remained  upon  the  stage.  We 
'guess'  he  will  'do,'  also,  in  other  parts;  and  cannot 
fail  to  be  a  favorite  in  all." 


FROM  BELL'S  NEW  WEEKLY  MESSENGER,  NOV.  6th,  1836. 

"  DRURY-LANE. — Another  actor  from  America,  made  his 
bow  to  an  English  audience,  at  this  theatre,  on  Tuesday 
night, — a  Mr.  Hill,  who  is  said  to  enjoy  considerable  repu 
tation  in  his  own  country,  as  a  representative  of  '  Yankee 
characters.'  A  new  farce,  written  by  Mr.  Bernard,  was 
produced  on  the  occasion :  its  title,  '  The  Yankee  Pedlar,' 
Colonel  Bantam  (Mr.  Bartley)  has  a  daughter  Nancy,  (Miss 
Lee,)  whose  hand  he  is  anxious  to  bestow  upon  a  friend  ; 
but  the  young  lady  prefers  a  lover  of  her  own  choosing, 
and  befriended  by  Hiram  Dodge,  the  pedlar,  (Mr.  Hill,) 
she  prevails  upon  her  father  to  consent  to  her  uniou 
with  her  favorite.  Mr.  Hill's  dry  humor  amused  the 
audience  greatly  ;  and  his  Yankeeisms  created  much  laugh 
ter.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  performance,  Mr.  Hill  was 
called  before  the  curtain,  when  he  proceeded  to  express  his 
thanks  for  his  reception,  in  a  speech  evidently  not  '  made 
for  the  occasion ;'  what  he  spoke  came  from  the  heart, 
and  we  were  too  well  pleased  with  the  manner,  to  quarrel 


54  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

about  the  matter  of  the  speech.  The  other  characters, 
mere  make-weights,  were  as  well  supported  as  it  was 
necessary  they  should  be.'' 


FROM  THE  LONDON  COURT  JOURNAL,  NOV.  5th,  1836. 

• 

"  MR.  HILL,  an  American  actor  of  the  comic  cast,  made 
acquaintance  with  a  London  audience,  on  Tuesday  night, 
in  a  local  sketch,  called  the  Yankee  Pedlar,  a  broad  farce. 
The  Yankee  Pedlar  manages  to  make  his  way  into  the 
house  of  one  Colonel  Bantam,  (Bartley,)  where  he  in 
trigues  and  tricks  some  fifty  or  sixty  dollars  into  his  pocket, 
by  playing  spy  upon  the  Colonel's  daughter  and  her  lover, 
— hiring  himself  to  the  latter  as  confidant, — and  jockeying 
the  Colonel  into  winning  a  horse-race  against  his  own 
arrangements,  and  giving  his  daughter  to  her  lover  against 
his  will. 

"  Mr.  Hill  is  slight  in  figure,  pleasant  in  countenance,  with 
a  most  agreeable  address.  He  laughs,  turns  grave,  is 
bustling,  lounging,  solemn,  and  chattering,  by  turns.  All 
the  versatile  knavery  of  the  Yankee,  with  his  undeviating 
eye  to  the  main  chance,  he  pictures  in  right  lively  style. 
Before  the  piece  was  over,  he  and  his  audience  seemed 
to  have  grown  quite  familiar  ;  and  being  called  on  at  the 
end  of  the  piece,  in  accordance  with  a  silly  custom,  he 
expressed  his  deep  sense  of  the  kind  welcome  he  had 
received,  in  just  so  many  words.'* 


YANKEE    HILL.  55 

FROM    THE  LONDON  SATIRIST,  NOV.  6th,   1836. 

"  The  next  that  we  have  to  notice,  is  Mr.  Hill's  perform 
ance  of  the  Yankee  Pedlar,  in  a  sprightly  and  well- written 
piece  of  that  name,  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Bernard,  the  author 
of  a  variety  of  dramatic  pieces,  among  the  rest,  that  of  the 
Nervous  Man.  Mr.  Hill  is  an  exceedingly  clever  actor; 
his  style  is  of  the  most  quaint  and  quiet  description :  he 
embodies  a  picture  of  a  thorough-bred  Yankee,  who  suc 
ceeds  only  by  a  sly  and  fraudulent  cunning,  in  the  most 
humorous  manner  possible.  He  has  already  become  a 
great  favorite,  and  as  characters  are  capable,  as  we  have 
seen,  of  being  written  for  him  here,  we  *  guess '  that  his 
stay  with  us  will  not  be  very  short." 


FROM  THE  SUNDAY  EVENING  GLOBE,  NOV.  6th,  1836. 

"  DRURY-LANE. — Mr.  Hill,  another  American  performer, 
in  a  line  totally  different  from  that  of  Mr.  Forrest,  made 
his  appearance  at  this  theatre  on  Tuesday.  A  local  sketch 
called  '  The  Yankee  Pedlar,'  was  the  vehicle  of  Mr.  Hill's 
peculiar  talent,  and  it  is  but  justice  to  say,  that  it  was  de 
veloped  very  cleverly.  Everybody  has  been  amused  at 
one  tune  or  other,  by  Yankee  exaggerations,  delectable 
in  their  very  extravagance;  in  this  *  sketch/  there  is  a 
choice  '  batch'  of  them,  delivered  in  the  genuine  racy  style 
of  a  '  native.'  Mr.  Hill's  humor  is  unlike  anybody  else's 
that  we  have  seen ;  it  is  as  quiet  as  it  is  quaint  and  felici 
tous,  and  bears  the  strong  impress  of  truth.  He  is  the 


56  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

smoothest  and  slickest  of  pedlars,  lies  with  so  much  ease 
and  comfort;  and  overreaches  with  such  sly  satisfaction, 
that  we  are  glad  to. make  his  acquaintance.  He,  in  short, 
gives  an  exceeding  diverting  picture  of  Yankees  and  Yan- 
keeism,  and  if  he  play  as  well  in  his  future  characters,  as 
in  this,  he  will  always  receive,  as  he  did  on  his  first  appear 
ance,  a  warm  welcome. 


FROM  THE    LONDON  SUNDAY  TIMES,  NOV.   6th,   1836. 

"  DRURY-LANE. — We  have  this  week  to  record  the  ap 
pearance  of  another  American  actor  of  fair  promise,  on 
these  boards,  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Hill,  who  had  previously 
acquired  considerable  celebrity  in  all  the  principal  American 
theatres,  by  his  representation  of  "  Yankee  characters,"  a 
line  of  business  that  is  somwhat  synonimous  to  our  York 
shire  country  boys.  We  have  hitherto  been  accustom 
ed,  not  ill-naturedly,  we  trust,  to  confound  everything 
'American,  by  the  general  term  of  'Yankee,'  but  this  is 
quite  a  mistake.  As  in  England,  all  rustics  are  not  York, 
so  in  America,  the  same  class  are  not  all  '  Yankee.'  It  is 
a  distinct  caste,  peculiar  to  the  eastern  states,  and  like  our 
Yorkshiremen,  is  chiefly  distinguished  by  shrewd  cunning, 
under  the  mask  of  simplicity.  Mr.  Hill  made  his  debut  be 
fore  an  English  audience,  in  a  farce  called  *  The  Yankee 
Pedlar,'  which  Mr.  Bernard  has  so  adapted  to  the  British 
stage,  as  to  render  the  main  features  of  the  principal  part, 
tolerably  intelligible.  At  this  moment,  we  cannot  call  to 
recollection,  any  character  of  our  own  drama,  which  bears 
sufficient  similitude  to  it,  to  afford  room  for  comparison  ;  but 


YANKEE    HILL.  57 

though  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  original,  we  may  ima 
gine  the  portrait  given  by  Mr.  Hill,  to  be  a  faithful  one. 
The  piece  is  plentifully  interlarded  with  local  witticisms,  and 
is  altogether  a  very  agreeable  bit  of  broad  comedy.  Hill's 
acting  was  easy  and  natural,  sufficiently  comic  to  keep  the 
risible  muscles  of  his  auditors  in  constant  play,  without 
any  straining  at  effect.  The  Americans  call  him  '  little* 
Hill,  and  so  he  is ;  but  his  figure,  though  not  colossal  like 
Forrest's,  is  well  formed  and  his  features  are  good,  and 
capable  of  the  richest  comic  expression,  Though  he  had 
not  quite  so  much  to  do  as  we  could  have  wished,  he  has 
certainly  made  a  most  favorable  impression  by  his  per 
formance,  even  of  this  trifling  part.  Hartley's  Colonel 
Bantam,  was  an  exceedingly  happy  conception,  and  it  was 
equally  well  embodied.  In  parts  of  this  description,  Bart- 
ley  has  no  rival.  At  the  fall  of  the  curtain,  there  was  an 
universal  call  for  Hill,  who  came  forward  and  expressed  his 
acknowledgments  in  modest,  but  appropriate  terms.  The 
farce  was  given  out  for  repetition  amid  loud  plaudits. 


FROM  THE  LONDON  MORNING  HERALD,  JAN.  4th,  1837. 

"OLYMPIC  THEATRE.— Last  night,  Mr.  Hill,  celebrated 
throughout  the  United  States  of  America  for  his  correct 
personation  of  the  Yankee  character,  made  the  second  ap 
pearance  upon  these  boards  in  his  original  part  of  Hiram 
Dodge,  in  Bernard's  farce  of  'The  Yankee  Pedlar.' 
Having  fully  detailed  the  plot  and  incident  of  this  trifle 
when  it  was  some  short  time  since  produced  at  Drury-Lane 
Theatre,  it  would  be  a  work  of  supererogation  now  to  do 
3* 


58  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

so ; — we  have,  therefore,  but  little  to  remark  upon  the  pre 
sent  occasion,  further  than  to  record  its  success  here,  as  well 
as  the  favorable  reception  of  Mr.  Hill,  whose  performance 
was  honored  with  great  and  frequent  applause.  The  man 
ner  of  Mr.  Hill  is  perfectly  quiet,  and  his  acting  more  nearly 
resembling  that  of  the  late  "little  Knight,"  as  he  was 
called,-  than  any  we  have  since  seen ;  and  his  stories,  for 
which  his  countryman  has  contrived  this  farce  as  the  ve 
hicle,  are  not  unlike  in  their  quaintness,  humor  and  minute 
ness  of  detail,  though,  of  course,  far  exceeding  it  in  the 
romance  peculiar  to  the  new  country,  that  of  "  Betty  at 
Heckleton  Fair,"  which  all  who  have  heard  it  from  the  lips 
of  the  latter,  must  well  remember.  The  size,  therefore,  of 
his  present  arena,  is  peculiarly  adapted  for  Mr.  Hill's  per 
formance,  as  it  enables  all  to  hear,  and  hearing,  few  failed 
to  laugh  outright.  The  piece  was  in  other  respects,  well 
supported,  and  had,  in  addition,  the  advantage  of  new  and 
appropriate  scenery. 


FROM  THE  LONDON  SUNDAY  TIMES,  JAN.   8th,   1837. 

"  OLYMPIC. — Mr.  Hill,  the  American  comedian,  whose 
successful  appearance  at  Drury-Lane  in  the  Yankee  Pedlar, 
we  noticed  some  weeks  back,  has  been  enlisted  into  the 
ranks  of  the  Widow  of  Wych-street.  Mr.  Hill  appeared 
here  on  Monday  last,  in  the  same  part,  and  has  played 
each  succeeding  night  wi'th  increased  applause.  His  quiet 
humor  tells  better  than  in  the  larger  house — at  all  events, 
he  contrived  to  keep  the  audience  in  roars  of  laughter, 
during  the  whole  of  this  performance 


YANKEE    HILL.  59 

(Mr.  Hill  was  acting  at  this  period,  at  Madame  Vestris's 
and  the  Queen's  Theatre,  every  night.) 


FROM  THE  LONDON  MORNING  TOST,    JAN.  10.   183V. 

"  QUEEN'S. — A  new  piece  entitled  Caspar  Hauser,  or  The 
Wild  Boy  of  Bavaria,  was  produced  last  night  at  this 
theatre.  We  understand  it  is  written  expressly  for  the 
purpose  of  exhibiting  the  peculiar  powers  of  Mr.  Hill, 
whose  delineations  of  Yankee  character  are  very  amusing 
and  racy.  The  plot  is  founded  upon  a  story  which  made 
much  noise  about  five  years  ago,  but  which  eventually 
proved  to  be  an  imposture.  The  writer  of  this  piece, 
however,  takes  the  story  for  fact,  with  the  only  alteration 
of  conducting  it  to  a  happy  catastrophe.  The  piece  told 
well ;  most  of  the  pictures  and  positions  were  very  effec 
tive  ;  the  scenery  was  good ;  and  (as  the  loud  applause 
which  followed  the  falling  of  the  curtain,  testified)  the  play 
was  decidedly  successful.  Dr.  Lott  Whittle,  the  charac 
ter  enacted  by  Mr.  Hill,  was  admirably  adapted  for  the  ex 
hibition  of  those  national  peculiarities  in  which  that  gen 
tleman  is  so  successful.  He  is  well  described  by  one  of 
the  dramatis  personce  as  an  "  anythingarian" — a  sort  of 
Yankee  Caleb  Quotam,  with'^ffie^TaMe^vlrTe^y  of  calling, 
but  more  quickness  of  resource  and  a  harder  intellect.  He 
describes  himself  well,  when,  in  answer  to  the  question  of 
"  where  he  took  out  his  Doctor's  degrees,''  he  says,  "  I  did 
not  do  it  by  degrees;  I  jumped  into  it  at  once."  At  the 
fall  of  the  curtain,  Mr.  Hill  was  unanimously  called  for 
and  loudly  cheered. 


60  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 


FROM  THE  LONDON  CHRONICLE,  JAN.    11,  1837. 

"  QUEEN'S  THEATRE. — A  new  piece  entitled  '  Caspar 
Hauser,  or  The  Wild  Boy  of  Bavaria,'  was  produced  on 
Monday  at  this  Theatre.  The  plot  is  founded  upon  a  story 
which  made  much  noise  about  five  years  ago.  The  piece 
told  well,  and  was  decidedly  successful.  Dr.  Lott  Whittle, 
the  character  enacted  by  Mr.  Hill,  was  admirably  adapted 
for  the  exhibition  of  Yankee  peculiarities,  in  which  that 
gentleman  is  so  successful.  At  the  fall  of  the  curtain  Mr. 
Hill  was  unanimously  called  for  and  loudly  cheered." 


FROM  THE  LONDON  DAILY  ADVERTISER,    JAN.    11,    183 Y. 

"  QUEEN'S  THEATRE. — On  Monday  evening,  Mr.  Hill,  the 
American  Comedian  who  has  acquired  so  much  celebrity 
in  Yankee  land,  made  his  first  appearance  at  this  heatre. 
The  piece,  however,  which  is  purely  of  the  melo-dramatic 
school,  had  been  got  up  with  the  utmost  care  and  attention 
to  scenic  effect,  and  it  proved  exceedingly  attractive  and 
successful.  The  chief  star  of  the  piece,  which  seemed  to 
have  been  written  entirely  for  his  introduction,  was  Mr.  Hill, 
who  personated  Dr.  Lott  Whittle,  a  kind  of  nondescript 
comic  creation,  framed  for  the  purpose  of  delineating  the 
Yankee  countryboyism.  This  gentleman's  style  of  acting 
is  exceedingly  modest,  and  we  can  readily  believe  true  to 
the  life.  He  strains  not  an  atom,  but  speaks  his  author,  as 
the  original  would  do.  This  may  not  at  first  take  the  fancy 
of  every  one  who  associates  the  idea  of  comedian  with  some- 


YANKEE    HILL.  61 

thing  very  much  out  of  the  way ;  yet  we  were  pleased  to 
see  that  the  audience  were  caught  by  his  style,  and  were 
exceedingly  liberal  in  their  applause.  At  the  conclusion  of 
the  piece,  the  expression  of  approbation  was  tremendous  ; 
and  it  ended  with  Mr.  Hill  being  under  the  necessity  of 
presenting  himself  before  the  curtain.  His  Americanisms 
were  really  very  quaint  and  amusing. 


FROM  THE  LONDON  TRUE  SUN,  JAN.  11,  1837. 

"  QUEEN'S  THEATRE. — Mr.  Hill,  the  American  Comedian, 
appeared  at  this  theatre  last  night,  in  a  new  piece  called 
'  Caspar  Hauser,  or  the  Wild  Boy  of  Bavaria.'  Mr.  Hill 
sustains  the  part  of  Dr.  Lott  Whittle,  an  everythingarian ; 
but  particularly  great  in  medicine  and  painting.  Those 
who  have  read  Lord  Stanhope's  interesting  account  of 
Caspar  Hauser's  imposture,  for  such  it  was  at  last  discover 
ed  to  be,  will  find  that  the  actual  circumstances  are  follow 
ed  pretty  closely  in  the  drama.  He  is  made,  however,  to 
be  the  lost  heir  of  a  noble  family,  his  uncle  being  the  Baron 
Rhemfelt  (Mr.  S.  Johnston.)  The  Baron  has  an  only 
daughter,  Eva,  (Miss  Clifford,)  who  discovers  the  wild  boy 
in  his  loan  retreat.  She  saves  him,  and  leads  him  into  the 
haunts  of  men,  and  has  him  carefully  educated.  They 
become  mutually  attached  and  are  to  be  united,  when 
Caspar  is  stabbed  by  a  villain  named  Grippeswald  (Mr. 
Reed,)  who  aspires  to  the  hand  of  the  young  lady.  The 
murder  is  discovered  through  the  agency  of  Dr.  Lott 
Whittle,  and  the  piece  concludes.  Miss  Grey  sustained 
the  part  of  the  Wild  Boy  with  considerable  ability,  and  con- 


62  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

trived  to  make  him  a  most  interesting  person.  The  chief 
burden  of  the  piece,  however,  fell  on  Mr.  Hill's  shoulders  ; 
but  he  seems  to  delight  in  such  difficulties,  for  he  kept  the 
audience  in  constant  laughter.  The  humor  of  his  new 
character,  is  broader  than  that  of  the  Yankee  Pedlar,  and 
we  thought  that  Mr.  Hill  seemed  to  enjoy  the  fun  of  the 
part  in  a  higher  degree.  He  sang  two  songs  very  humor 
ously,  and  showed  that  he  knows  well  how  much  may  be 
gained  by  keeping  back  a  talent  until  the  proper  moment 
arrives  for  its  display.  There  is  one  particular  in  which 
Mr.  Hill  has  no  rival — and  that  is  his  manner  of  telling  a 
story.  He  introduced  several  last  night,  and  the  effect 
was  irresistible.  The  piece  was  much  applauded,  and  was 
given  out  for  repetition  amidst  loud  acclamations.  Mr. 
Hill  was  called  for  after  the  fall  of  the  curtain. 


Mr.  Hill  afterwards  played  in  all  the  principal  towns  of 
England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  and  in  every  place  received 
the  enthusiastic  applause  of  large  and  brilliant  audiences, 
attracted  by  his  name  and  fame.  During  his  sojourn  in 
Great  Britain  he  made  many  valuable  friends.  His  en 
gagements,  however,  were  of  too  pressing  a  nature  to  allow 
him  much  time  for  social  pleasures.  The  following  familiar 
and  friendly  letter  from  the  Honorable  Mr.  Murray,  will 
serve  to  show  how  difficult  it  was,  at  this  time,  to  put  a 
finger  upon  Mr.  Hill. 

''LEAMINGTON,  Feb,  23,  1837. 

"  Mr  DEAR  '  BLOWHARD  :' — I  am  really  vexed  at  the  ob 
stinate  pertinacity  with  which  a  certain  'gentleman  in 


YANKEE    HILL.  63 

black  with  a  forked  tail '  seems  to  contrive  that  we  should 
never  meet,  although  both  are  in  this  little  island  ;  for,  no 
sooner  do  you  move  to  the  north,  than  I  am  carried  off  to 
the  southern  districts,  and  your  letter  has  hunted  me  from 
Dunmore  Park  to  Oxford,  thence  to  London,  and  thence  to 
this  place,  where  I  am  sojourning  with  my  mother,  who 
is  an  invalid,  and  drinking  the  mineral  waters  of  this  Spa : 
and  now,  as  your  letter  is  dated  the  13th  ult.,  I  know  not 
where  mine  may  overtake  you,  or  whether  it  will  ever 
reach  you  at  all,  as  you  seem  to  be  on  a  flying  tour,  of 
which  I  know  not  the  ultimate  destination ;  but  I  will 
address  it  to  Edinburgh,  and  merely  assure  you  of  my 
sincere  regret  that  our  house  should  be  empty,  and  all  the 
family  absent,  while  you  are  in  the  neighborhood  ;  it  has 
been  but  a  sad  and  melancholy  dwelling  since  my  poor 
father's  death,  but  you  should  have  had  a  bottle  of  good 
Madeira,  and  a  hearty  welcome ;  and  you  shall  still  have 
both,  if  you  will  visit  us  in  the  autumn,  when  the  families 
are  all  at  their  country  seats ;  whereas  you  are  rambling 
through  the  country,  when  every  soul  is  in  London,  attending 
the  court  and  the  parliament.  Pray  let  me  hear  something 
of  your  proposed  movements,  and  let  us  see  if  we  cannot 
induce  the  gent  in  black  to  allow  us  to  meet  somewhere 
to  have  a  few  hours'  chat  about  Johnny  Wrath  and  his 
merry  crew.  Believe  me  very  sincerely  yours, 

"  CHARLES  A.  MURRAY." 
"  To  G.  H.  HILL,  ESQ." 

Mr.  Hill  was  in  Edinburgh  when  he  received  the  fore 
going  letter.  The  following  extracts  from  the  Scotch 
papers  sufficiently  show  how  highly  he  was  appreciated  in 
the  "hind  o'  cakes:" — 


64  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 


FROM   THE    EDINBURGH  SCOTCHMAN,    FEB.  15th,   1837. 

"  THE  THEATRE.  Mr.  Hill,  the  celebrated  American  come 
dian,  and  personator  of  '  Yankee  country  boys,' — as  the 
play  bills  have  it, — commenced  a  short  engagement  here 
on  Wednesday  evening,  in  the  character  of  a  '  Yankee  Ped 
lar,'  an  odd  mixture  of  shrewdness,  wit,  and  cool  impu 
dence,  in  the  representation  of  which  Mr.  Hill  displayed  a 
degree  of  talent  which  shows  him  to  be  an  actor  of  consid 
erable  '  mark  and  likelihood.'  His  line  of  character  is  some 
degrees  below  the  highest  on  the  stage  ;  but,  nevertheless, 
there  is  no  want  of  room  in  that  line  for  the  display  of 
good  acting.  What  we  admire  most  in  Mr.  Hill,  is  the 
admirable  command  which  he  seems  to  possess  over  his 
comic  powers.  He  does  not  throw  away  his  efforts  upon 
so  many  separate  and  unconnected  '  hits,'  or  exhibit  any 
haste  to  distinguish  himself  all  at  once;  but,  repressing 
and  bridling  in  his  piquant  humor,  he  pursues  '  the  even 
tenor  of  his  way,'  chastely  and  quietly,  trusting  not  to 
petty  details,  but,  as  the  poet  says  of  beauty,  '  the  joint 
force  and  full  result  of  all,'  for  the  admiration  and  applause 
of  his  audience,  which  here,  at  least,  has  been  accorded  to 
him  most  warmly.  The  representation  of  Yankee  charac 
ter,  besides,  is  new  to  us  in  this  quarter ;  and  the  very 
novelty  has  a  charm  in  it,  which  recommends  his  acting  to 
our  liking.  We  have  only  yet  seen  him  in  this  one  part ; 
but  we  understand  he  is  no  less  excellent  in  the  only  other 
character  in  which  he  has  as  yet  appeared, — '  Zephaniah 
Makepeace,'  a  down-easter  out  of  place." 


YANKEE    HILL.  65 


FROM  THE  EDINBURGH  CALEDONIAN  MERCURY, 
FEB.   1C,   If   ,'7. 

"  Last  night  Mr.  Hill,  the  celebrated  American  Comedian, 
whose  representations  of  Yankee  clowns  have  been  so  at 
tractive  in  London,  made  his  first  appearance  here  and  was 
very  warmly  received.  We  were  glad  to  see  this  generous 
feeling  evinced  towards  a  stranger,  because,  whatever  may 
be  our  partiality  to  native  talent,  it  shows  that  a  Scottish 
audience  is  always  ready  to  acknowledge  merit,  apart 
from  all  such  extrinsic  considerations.  The  present  actor 
has  the  advantage  of  presenting  to  the  British  .public  a 
genus  quite  unknown  in  our  dramatic  literature,  and,  of 
course,  the  novelty  would  of  itself  go  far  to  heighten  the 
attraction ;  but  Mr.  Hill  has  no  need  to  rest  his  claims  on 
this  circumstance,  as  his  own  comic  talents  afford  a  far 
more  secure  basis.  The  piece  chosen  for  this  occasion 
was  termed  the  '  Yankee  Pedlar,'  being  a  local  sketch  of 
American  manners,  though  the  other  characters  are  entirely 
subservient  to  that  of  the  Pedlar,  who  by  his  roguery  or 
address  contrives  to  bring  his  fortunes  to  a  successful  con 
summation.  Mr.  Hill  performed  the  Pedlar,  and,  as  far  as 
we  could' judge,  it  seemed  a  most  natural  representation — 
our  opinion  being  confirmed  by  several  who  are  acquainted 
with  the  peculiar  manners  and  eccentricities  of  the  lower 
classes  in  America.  His  style  is  eminently  chaste,  bearing 
some  resemblance  to  that  of  Irish  Power,  who  figures  in  a 
different  sphere.  Mr.  Hill  does  not  seek  to  overpower  his 
audience  by  any  wild  freaks  or  sallies,  but  he  attains  his 
end  far  more  effectually  by  a  chaste,  quiet,  but  yet  easy 
and  flowing  vein  of  humor.  In  short,  often  when  appear- 


DO  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

ing  to  do  nothing  he  does  everything,  if  we  may  so  express 
ourselves.  In  several  scenes  he  was  much  applauded, 
particularly  in  one,  where  a  Planter,  having  written  a  letter 
to  his  overseer,  and  dispatched  the  same  by  the  Pedlar, 
with  his  instructions  to  give  the  bearer  100  lashes,  the 
Pedlar,  with  an  intuitive  caution,  which  seemed  his  forte, 
peeped  into  the  fatal  mandate,  and  seeing  its  contents, 
dexterously  selects  another  bearer.  He  afterwards  rejoins 
the  Planter,  who,  confident  of  the  success  of  his  stratagem, 
eyes  his  man  with  amazement  on  hearing  him  ask,  with  a 
cheerful  countenance,  if  he  had  any  farther  commands. 
He  was  met,  however,  by  a  look  from  the  Pedlar  equally 
knowing  and  expressive,  which  convulsed  the  house  with 
laughter,  and  evidently  showed  Mr.  Hill  to  be  an  actor. 
At  the  close  of  the  performance  the  applause  continued 
long  and  loud,  until  at  last  Mr.  Hill  made  his  appearance, 
and  with  great  good  taste  simply  confined  himself  to  an 
nouncing  the  piece  for  repetition.  We  feel  confident  that 
the  public  will  avail  themselves  of  this  opportunity  of  wit 
nessing  this  actor  in  a  new  and  interesting  field  of  dramatic 
adventure." 


FROM  THE  EDINBURGH  COURANT,  FEBRUARY   16,    183*7. 

"  THE  THEATRE. — Last  night  Mr.  Hill,  an  American  per 
former,  who  has  acquired  considerable  celebrity  in  this 
country  by  his  delineation  of  American  manners  and  pecu 
liarities,  appeared,  for  the  first  time  in  Edinburgh,  in  an 
admirable  farce,  entitled  "  The  Yankee  Pedlar."  Mr.  Hill, 
of  course,  sustains  the  principal  character ;  and  the  quaint 


YANKEE    HILL.  67 

simplicity  of  his  appearance  and  deportment,  the  amusingly 
cool  self-possession  with  which  he  pushed  forward  his  own 
interests,  his  quiet  humor,  and  his  sly  sagacity,  told  with 
irresistible  effect  on  a  very  numerous  audience.  His  en 
gagement,  we  observe,  is  announced  for  only  eight  nights, 
but  we  are  sure  his  performances  will  become  so  popular 
as  to  induce  the  manager  to  extend  it." 


FROM  THE  EDINBURGH  OBSERVER,  FEBRUARY  17,  1837. 

"  Wednesday  Evening,  Mr.  Hill,  the  American  Comedian, 
came  before  the  Edinburgh  audience  as  *  The  Yankee  Ped 
lar.'  He  was  received  with  enthusiastic  courtesy,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  established  his  claim  to  approval.  His  ap 
pearance  is  prepossessing,  and  his  countenance  (and  his  eye 
especially)  expressive  of  sly  humor — and,  without  meaning 
anything  offensive,  assuredly,  to  his  national  feelings,  we 
may  say  he  presented,  in  the  shape  of  the  Pedlar,  some  of 
those  traits  which  we  should  guess  belong  to  that  class  in 
Yankee  land,  an  order  who  can  take  gain  in  the  form  of 
money  from  opposite  parties,  and  *  then  stand  upon  prin 
ciple/  His  performance  throughout  was  '  tarnation '  and 
'  cantankerous  '  clever,  and  kept  the  house  in  an  unceasing 
convulsion  of  laughter.  Without  the  aid  of  prophecy,  we 
venture  to  predict  both  the  piece  and  the  performer  will 
be  prodigious  favorites  among  us.  When  it  was  finished, 
there  were  loud  and  continued  peals  of  laughter  and  ap 
plause,  indicating  that  he  was  called  for,  and  another  mem 
ber  of  the  corps  who  came  forth  to  announce  a  repetition 
(we  suppose)  having  got  a  hint  to  retire,  Mr.  Hill  re- 


68  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

appeared,  and  intimated  that  '  The  Pedlar'  was  to  be  pro 
duced  the  following  evening.  The  announcement  was 
received  with  loud  plaudits.  Mr.  Hill  is  evidently  a  first- 
rate  performer  in  his  walk,  evincing  the  most  perfect  ease, 
and  that  semblance  of  nature  which,  without  serving  effort 
or  art,  is,  in  reality,  an  achievement  of  the  highest  art. 


FROM   THE    EDINBURGH    EVENING    POST,    FEB.  18,  1837. 

"  THE  THEATRE. — Mr.  Hill,  the  celebrated  American  co 
median,  has  been  with  us  during  the  week.  His  chief  walk 
is  the  down-easter,  or  regular  Yankee,  a  character  sui 
generis,  and  well  worthy  of  a  representative  on  the  stage. 
Mr.  Hill  seems  to  have  studied  the  class  most  perfectly ;  at 
least  we  can  have  no  doubt  of  the  natural  effect  of  his 
performance.  Nothing  could  appear  less  of  a  caricature  : 
and  yet  he  renders  the  character  most  entertaining.  His 
performance  proves  him  a  first-rate  comic  actor,  in  some 
respects  not  inferior  to  Liston,  of  whom  he  strongly  re 
minds  us.  The  dialect  of  Yankee  and  peculiar  slang  of  the 
tribe  are  conveyed  with  most  amusing  effect  by  Mr.  Hill : 
but  perhaps  the  richest  part  of  his  performance  is  the  droll 
impudent  stare  which  he  assumes  when  he  wishes  to  be 
perfectly  and  particularly  slick.  Altogether,  we  consider 
Mr.  Hill's  personations  capital  embodiments  of  character, 
only  less  laughable  because  they  bear  the  stamp  of  truth. 
We  should  say  that  we  have  few  comic  actors  on  our  stage 
to  be  compared  with  him." 


YANKEE    HILL.  69 


FROM    THE    EDINBURGH     OBSERVER,    FEB.   21,    1837. 

'•  Mr.  Hill  continues  to  delight,  by  his  masterly  delinea 
tions  of  the  Yankee  character.  If  ever  there  was  a  man 
of  talent  in  his  art,  it  is  this  American.  He  has  the  finest 
and  most  expressive  eye  that  ever  spoke  more  eloquently 
than  words ;  he  is  gifted  with  a  taste  and  discrimination 
which  never  allow  him  to  exaggerate,  even  where  that  were 
pardonable ;  and,  to  use  a  low  term,  very  well  understood 
in  high  places,  however,  there  is  no  humbug  about  him." 


FROM   THE    EDINBURGH  JOURN1L,  FEB.  22,  1837. 

"  Mr  Hill,  the  American  comedian,  has  been  engaged  for 
a  very  few  nights,  and  takes  his  leave  on  Tuesday.  We 
regret  his  departure,  and  hope  it  may  be  postponed.  This 
clever  actor  introduces  us  to  an  entirely  new  line  of  char 
acters, — for  the  Yankees  of  the  stage  have  been,  hitherto, 
mere  caricatures,  while  Mr.  Hill's  performances  are  fin 
ished  pictures,  bearing  the  impress  of  nature  in  every  line. 
His  rich  and  inexhaustible  humor  is  never  obtrusive,  and 
the  quiet  way  in  which  he  goes  on  developing  the  charac 
ter,  without  the  slightest  straining  after  '  making  a  point,' 
resembles  the  style  of  Keeley  and  Irish  Power.  Like  the 
latter,  too,  he  is  a  capital  hand  at  telling  a  long  story  in  a 
way  which  keeps  one's  attention  unweariedly  on  the  stretch. 
He  has  a  fine,  good-humored  face,  and  a  capital  voice.  We 
have  been  delighted  with  the  little  we  have  seen  of  hi-n  ; 


70  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

and  should  like  much  to  see  more  of  him  than  his  en 
gagement,  (if  unextended)  will  admit  of. 

"  On  Tuesday,  Mr.  Hill  takes  his  benefit,  when,  if  the 
favor  he  meets  with  is  proportioned  to  his  merits,  there 
will  not  be  an  empty  seat  in  the  house." 


FROM   THE    GLASGOW    COURIER,    MARCH  9,  1837. 

"  THEATRE  ROYAL.  Since  our  last  notice,  Mr.  Hill,  the 
American,  has  been  increasing  in  attraction,  in  the  charac 
ter  of  Hiram  Dodge,  the  Yankee  Pedlar.  He  has  also  sus 
tained,  with  equal  success,  another  character,  but  nearly 
of  a  similar  nature  in  all  its  essential  features,  namely,  Dr. 
Lott  Whittle,  an  '  American  travelling  artist  of  all  work,' 
in  a  melo-dramatic  piece,  entitled  '  Caspar  Hauser,  or  the 
Wild  Boy  of  Bavaria,'  in  which  Mr.  Hill  has  greater  scope 
for  the  development  of  his  Yankee  peculiarities.  In  it  no 
point  of  any  consequence  was  omitted  :  it  was  a  full  em 
bodiment  of  the  character,  and  left  nothing  farther  to  be 
desired.  His  humor  was  inexhaustible ;  his  style  of  acting 
inimitable." 


His  last  engagement  in  Scotland  was  in  Glasgow.  As 
the  time  grew  near  for  the  termination  of  his  European 
tour,  he  became  more  and  more  anxious  about  home,  and 
was  impatient  for  the  day  to  come  when  he  should  leave 
the  scenes  of  his  triumph,  for  the  more  solid  joys  which 
awaited  him  at  his  fireside.  The  letter  which  I  give  below, 


YANKEE    HILL.  71 

addressed    to  Mrs.  Hill   from    Glasgow,  will    express  his 
feelings  at  this  time,  much  better  than  I  could  give  them : 

"  GLASGOW,  MARCH,  1st,  1837. 

"  MY  LOVE  ; — Having  a  few  spare  moments,  I  will  occu 
py  them  by  writing  once  more  to  thee.  I  have  just  laid 
down  my  flute,  after  playing  '  Home,  sweet  home,1  and  oh, 
how  that  air  comes  home  to  my  feelings  now.  Though  a 
few  days  will  find  me  embarked  for  my  native  land,  it 
appears  that  the  time  never  passed  so  heavily,  and  I  must 
repeat  once  more,  that  if  my  God  will  suffer  me  to  meet 
you  again,  we  will  not  separate,  till  one  or  both  shall  be 
called  to  another  world.  I  was,  last  night,  dreaming  of 
you,  and  that  you  clung  to  me  in  an  hour  of  deep  distress ; 
I  partly  awoke,  and  turned  to  speak  to  you,  and  say  it  was 
but  a  dream,  but  found  no  one  near  me.  I  was  alone,  in  a 
melancholy,  cold  room,  and  naught  to  cheer  me  but  the 
moon's  rays.  I  arose  from  my  bed,  put  on  my  morninp- 
gown,  and  sat  by  the  window,  I  should  think,  an  hour, 

*  Silent  [  gazed  on  the  midnight  sky, 
While  sad  was  the  spell  that  bound  me, 

The  pale  moon  shed,  from  her  arch  on  high, 
The  gift  of  her  glory  around  me.' 

"  I  made  my  first  appearance  here  on  Monday  last : 
the  house  was  full,  and  my  reception  as  warm  and  enthu 
siastic  here  as  in  Edinburgh.  I  play  here  ten  nights. 
I've  been  buying  you  some  Scotch  presents,  to-day,  which 
I  think  you'll  be  pleased  with.  Tell  the  children  that 
father  will  not  forget  them  ;  they  shall  have  some  delightful 
presents  when  I  return.  I  have  many  engagements  offered 


72  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

me  now,  but  having  made  up  my  mind  to  sail  on  the  20th, 
or  24th  inst.,  have  been  obliged  to  refuse  till  I  return.  Do 
take  good  care  of  yourself  and  children,  and  pray  fervent 
ly,  as  I  do,  that  my  journey  may  be  a  safe  and  speedy 
one  to  the  bosom  of  my  dear  family. 

"  Yours,  as  ever,  fond  and  true, 

"  G.  H.  HILL." 
"  To  CORDELIA  HILL,  God  bless  her." 


Mr.  Hill  sailed  from  Liverpool  in  March.,  1837,  in  the 
ship  United  States,  Captain  Holdridge.  On  his  homeward 
passage,  as  he  had  been  when  outward-bound,  he  was  the 
life  and  soul  of  the  "  goodlie  companie."  On  his  arrival  in 
New  York,  he  was  immediately  engaged  by  Mr.  Simpson  to 
make  his  first  appearance  after  his  trip  to  Europe  at  the 
Park.  On  this  occasion,  he  appeared  in  a  piece  called 
"The  Pedlar,'  the  same  which  was  written  for  him  by 
Mr.  Bernard,  and  played  with  such  success  in  England. 
His  reception  was  of  the  most  enthusiastic  and  flattering 
kind.  The  house  was  crowded  from  pit  to  dome,  and 
when  he  made  his  entree,  it  was  many  minutes  before  he 
was  allowed  to  speak,  for  the  applause  which  greeted  his 
return.  He  played  to  overflowing  houses  every  night 
of  his  engagement.  In  the  month  of  June  he  visited 
Louisville.  This  was  about  the  time  when  that  disastrous 
re-action  took  place,  which  followed  the  speculating  epi 
demic  of  1835  and  '6.  Whilst  he  was  in  Louisville,  the 
following  lines  apperred  in  one  of  the  daily  prints*  of  that 
city  : 


YANKEE    HILL.  73 

"  In  these  dull  times  of  care  and  sorrow, 

When  tribulation  fills  each  breast, 
When  every  merchant  dreads  the  morrow, 

And  notes  and  protests  haunt  their  rest. 
Nature  ne'er  made  a  mortal  fitter, 

The  worried  heart  with  joy  to  fill, 
Than  that  delightful,  humorous  critter, 

That  soul  of  frolic  Yankee  Hill. 

"  Others  may  strut  with  tragic  brow, 

In  tragic  tones  their  grief  make  known, 
Such  serious  themes  don't  suit  us  now, 

Wit  we  would  have,  not  fun  alone. 
A  Yankee  Pedlar  opes  his  pack, 

Of  recipes  each  care  to  kill, 
In  Louisville,  there  is  no  lack 

Of  friends,  to  welcome  Yankee  HilL 

"  Where'er  he  travels,  east  or  west, 

O'er  rugged  roads  or  stormy  waters, 
No  favorite  e'er  was  so  caressed 

By  wit's  gay  sons  and  bright  eyed -daughters. 
When  souls  with  welcome  mirth  are  gushing, 

And  Fancy's  sparks  with  rapture  thrill, 
When  the  full  founts  of  wit  are  rushing, 

Be  there  to  charm  us,  Yankee  Hill  " 

He  next  appeared  in  Cincinatti ;  he  was  a  great  favorite 
in  the  Queen  of  the  West,  whose  citizens  always  assembled 
in  crowds,  to  welcome  his  appearance  among  them.  He 
played  a  short  engagement  next  in  Boston,  and  then  re-ap 
peared  at  the  Park  in  New  York.  He  was  advertised  to 
play  Solomon  Swop  in  "  Who  wants  a  Guinea,"  but  Mr. 
Hackett  placed  an  injunction  upon  the  Theatre.  The  in 
junction  was,  however,  soon  removad,  and  Solomon  Swop 
4 


74  LIFE   AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

made  his  bow  with  the  more  unction  after  the  initiation 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  Court  of  Chancery.  Solomon, 
although  threatened  with  a  suit,  did  not  get  into  any  of 
the  bad  habits  usually  acquired  by  gentlemen  of  the  long 
robe. 

He  then  went  to  Philadelphia,  and  from  thence  to 
Washington.  He  was  here  an  accredited  Ambassador 
from  the  Court  of  Momus,  and  right  welcome  was  he  in  a 
place  where  motley  is  so  much  the  wear.  Men  worn  out 
with  the  ponderous  duty  of  making  laws,  or  jaded  with  the 
more  arduous  task  of  feathering  their  own  nests,  or  making 
new  ones  for  their  friends,  were  glad  to  turn  aside  and  en 
joy  the  pleasant  entertainments  offered  by  Mr.  Hill.  The 
farces  annually  played  in  Congress,  are  only  entertaining 
to  the  players  engaged,  being  altogether  what  actors  call 
"  too  talky  for  the  mass."  These  beside,  being  monstrous 
ly  expensive,  are  got  up  with  such  an  utter  disregard  to 
place,  unity  and  time,  that  it  is  a  wonder  almost,  the  ma 
nagers  have  not  shut  up  the  Theatre  long  before  this,  and 
put  the  performers  to  some  more  congenial  employment. 

Mr.  Hill  was  always  successful  in  Washington,  for  his  enter 
tainments  were  of  a  character  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
best  people  there.  I  have  now  before  me  complimentary 
letters  from  Mr.  Clay,  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  others, 
all  expressive  of  their  appreciation  of  Mr.  Hill's  talents  as 
an  actor.  Among  the  incidents  and  anecdotes  related  in 
another  part  of  this  book,  will  be  found  a  speech  delivered 
by  Mr.  Hill,  on  the  Oregon  question,  so  that  it  will  be  seen, 
that  whilst  he  had  an  eye  to  maintaining  the  humor  of  his 
country,  he  had  a  most  patriotic  regard  to  the  other  great 
interests  of  the  land.  After  putting  matters  right  in 
Washington,  he  returned  to  New  York,  which  place  he  left 


YANKEE    HILL.  75 

in  a  few  days,  to  fulfil  an  engagement  at  Albany.  On  his 
voyage  up  the  North  River,  he  was  seated  in  the  cabin 
reading  a  newspaper,  when  he  observed  an  odd-looking 
individual  reading  over  his  shoulder.  Mr.  Hill  looked  up 
in  his  face,  when  the  fellow,  with  his  hands  in  his  pocket, 
and  not  in  the  least  disconcerted  at  being  caught  in  so 
impertinent  and  unmannerly  an  act,  exclaimed  "  Any  news 
in  particular  ?" 

"  No  sir ;  will  you  accept  the  paper  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  can't ;  ain't  got  time.  It's  the  first  time  I've 
been  up  this  River,  and  I  want  to  be  looking  reound. 
How  can  they  take  a  fellow  up  this  river  for  a  dollar  and 
found.  They  can't  dew  it.  It's  a  take-in." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  Why  they  charge  one  dollar  to  take  you  in,  and  when 
you  git  up  to  Albany,  you've  got  to  pay  another  dollar  to 
get  eout.  Got  this  place  all  fixed  up  so.  Sophy's  all 
reound  tew.  I  never  use  Sophy's  myself,  but  once  courted 
a  gal  by  that  name,  and  it  looks  a  kind  o'  natural  to 
see  Sophy's  reound ;  and  them  stuffed-bottom  chairs  eout 
there.  I  thought  I'd  set  deown  on  one  on  'em  ;  by  thun 
der,  I  jumped  up  three  feet.  Oh,  I'll  be  darned  if  I  didn't 
think  I  was  sitting  down  on  sombody's  baby.  You  see  I 
chaw  tobacco ;  grandfather  chawed,  and  father  he  chaw 
ed,  and  mother,  she — eh — no,  she  didn't,  she  snuffed,  so 
you  see  I  have  to  keep  running  up  to  expectorate — as  our 
doctor  says,  overboard.  I  expect  I  shall  have  to  go  again 
in  about  a  minute." 

«'  You  need  not  take  that  trouble,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hill, 
"  here  are  spittoons.*' 

"Spittoons!  Oh,  yes,  I  know'd  what  them  was  for,  but 
they've  got  'era  brightened  up  so,  I  didn't  like  to  nasty  'em. 


76  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

I  went  to  the  The-ater  to  see  you  t'other  night.  Didn't 
you  see  me?  I  sot  right  in  front  of  you." 

"  No,  sir,  I  did  not." 

"  Wai,  I  don't  suppose  you  could ;  there  was  a  hull  lot  of 
fellers  there.  I  got  jammed  in.  I  had  on  a  striped  vest, 
the  fronts  were  new,  but  the  backs  being  made  of  cotton, 
sometimes  will  give  eout.  By  golly,  I  got  tew  laughing, 
so  away  went  the  back,  slitted  right  up  to  the  collar.  I 
was  a  little  the  tornest  critter  you  ever  did  see." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  your  misfortune,"  remarked 
Mr.  Hill. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  fret  abeout  it,  Mr.  Hill.  I  shouldn't 
a  wore  it  much  more  nor  three  weeks  longer,  anyhow. 
You  see  I  never  wear  my  best  clothes  to  sich  places, 
'cause  it  kind  a  rips  them  eout  a  leetle.  I  had  a  bet  abeout 
you,  Mr.  Hill.  Some  feller  said  you  was  born  on  Long 
Island.  I  told  him  you  wasn't,  you  was  born  down-east." 

"  You  were  right,  sir,  1  was  born  in  one  of  the  eastern 
States." 

"There,  I  know'd  you  was,  'cause  I  know'd  you  couldn't 
get  along  so  well  as  you  did,  if  you  wasn't  born  deown 
that  way  somewhere.  Have  you  been  in  Massachusetts  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hill. 

"  Been  in  the  State  of  Maine  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Been  in  New  Hampshire?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Ah.  Maybe  you  was  born  there?  They've  got  a 
good  many  Hills." 

"  No,  sir,  I  was  not." 

"  Wai,  you  might  have  been.     Ever  been  in  Vermont  ?" 

«  Yes,  sir." 


YANKEE   HILL.  77 

"  You  know  old  Zeke  Hill?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Nor  I  nuther,  but  I've  hearn  tell  there  was  such  a  fel 
ler,  didn't  know  but  you  might  have  known  him  tew." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  Connecticut  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Ever  been  in  Rhode  Island  ?  that  little  bit  of  a  thing 
in  there." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  Boston  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Having  thus  obtained  nothing  very  satisfactory  from 
Mr.  Hill,  in  relation  to  his  birth-place,  he  commenced  ask 
ing  him  if  he  had  been  to  the  Capital  of  this  State,  and 
then  the  other,  until  he  had  got  through  the  whole  of 
them  ;  he  then,  to  Mr.  Hill's  astonishment,  commenced  with 
the  country  towns,  doubtless  with  the  hope  of  hitting  at 
last  upon  the  one  in  which  Mr.  Hill  was  born.  Mr.  Hill, 
getting  a  little  out  of  patience,  said,  "  I  presume,  sir,  you 
wish  to  ascertain  where  I  was  born  ?" 

"  Wai,  yes,  I  shouldn't  mind  knowing,  if  you  have  no 
objection  to  tell,  and  if  you  had  told  me  before,  you  would 
have  saved  me  a  darned  sight  of  trouble." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  "  I  was  born  in  Boston,  in  the 
year  1809,  on  the  8th  day  of  October,  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning." 

"  At  six  o'clock,  eh  ?" 

"  At  six  o'clock  precisely,  down  in  Water  street." 

"Dew  tell.  But  Mr.  Hill,  dew  you  remember  the  number 
of  the  house?" 

This  was  carrying  inquisitiveness  to  the  very  extreme, 
and  would  have  been  very  annoying  to  any  man  but  one 


LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

engaged  like  Mr.  Hill  in  enlarging  a  gallery  of  odd  pic 
tures. 

After  finishing  his  engagement  at  Albany,  he  went  to 
Boston.  He  was  next  to  play  at  Baltimore  and  Richmond  ; 
he  deferred  the  latter  engagement,  however  for  a  time,  in 
order  to  play  for  a  complimentary  benefit  tendered  to  his 
old  friend  and  author,  Samuel  Wood  worth,  Esq.  The  be 
nefit  came  off  at  the  Bowery  Theatre,  and  resulted  in  the 
substantial  gain  of  $1500  to  the  beneficiary.  I  am  told  by 
those  who  were  present  on  this  interesting  occasion,  that 
he  never  played  so  exquisitely  before.  Every  look  he  gave, 
every  word  he  uttered,  told  with  immense  effect  upon  the 
charmed  audience.  My  informant  remarks,  that  he  seemed 
almost  inspired.  Knowing  as  I  do,  the  benevolence  of 
Mr.  Hill's  heart,  I  can  readily  understand  the  inspiration 
he  felt,  for  he  knew^  that  the  poet's  heart  would  be  made 
glad  by  the  results  of  his  exertion,  and  it  threw  a  spirit 
into  his  acting,  which  mere  personal  gain  could  not  have 
done.  Mr.  Hill  was  at  all  times  ever  ready  to  assist  the 
needy  and  deserving  in  his  profession.  He  appeared  for 
benefits  time  after  time :  often  with  great  inconvenience  to 
himself,  and  almost  always  with  a  loss  in  a  pecuniary  point 
of  view. 

After  the  benefit,  he  proceeded  to  fulfil  his  deferred  en 
gagements  at  Baltimore  and  Richmond.  He  was  very 
much  dissatisfied  with  the  company  at  the  latter  place,  for 
they  were  not  only  deficient  in  dramatic  ability,  but  also  in 
respectability  of  character,  and  nothing  was  more  galling 
to  Mr.  Hill  than  to  be  obliged  to  appear  with  persons  of 
this  description. 

In  the  month  of  December,  1837,  he  went  to  New 
Orleans.  Several  incidents  which  occurred  to  him  in  that 


YANKEE    HILL.  79 

city  will  be  found  in  another  part  of  this  work.  Mr.  Hill, 
during  this  visit  labored  under  a  nervous  depression,  that 
rendered  him  very  miserable.  He  felt  so  depressed  at 
times,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could  be  urged  to  play 
at  all.  Sometimes,  even  when  dressed  for  a  part,  he  has 
wished  to  give  it  up,  and  would  on  many  occasions  have 
done  so,  if  he  had  not  almost  have  been  pushed  upon  the 
stage  by  the  Manager.  It  is  a  singular  thing,  that  the 
moment  he  came  in  view  of  the  audience,  he  seemed  a 
changed  being,  and  not  a  soul  in  front  who  looked  upon 
his  laughter- provoking  face  could  have  believed  for  a  mo 
ment,  that  he  was  the  wretched  being  he  really  felt  him 
self.  This  state  of  health  continued  upon  him  for  some 
time  ;  so  bad  did  he  feel,  that  when,  in  a  short  time  after 
wards  he  was  playing  in  Philadelphia,  he  always  had  a 
physician  with  him  to  feel  his  pulse  and  look  at  his  tongue 
every  time  he  came  off  the  stage.  To  those  who  are  un 
acquainted  with  the  witch-like  character  of  a  nervous  af 
fection,  this  may  appear  almost  incredible,  but  any  one 
who  has  suffered  from  a  similar  affection  will  readily  sym 
pathize  with  the  sufferings  he  felt. 

Mr.  Hill  was  now  preparing  for  his  second  visit  to  Eng 
land.  He  played  a  farewell  engagement  at  Boston  and  in 
New  York,  and  on  the  26th  of  May,  1838,  sailed  for  Liver 
pool,  in  the  packet  ship  Sheffield,  Captain  Allen.  Mrs. 
Hill  accompanied  her  husband  on  this  occasion.  In  nine 
teen  days  from  the  time  of  leaving  New  York,  Mr.  Hill  and 
lady  landed  in  Liverpool.  He  lost  no  time  in  that  town, 
but  as  soon  as  his  luggage  could  be  got  through  the 
Custom  House,  proceeded  to  London.  He  was  engaged 
at  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  and  made  his  first  appearance, 
after  his  return,  in  the  comedy  of  New  Notions,  playing 


80  LIFE   AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

the  part  of  Major  Enoch  Wheeler.  This  piece  ran  with 
great  success  for  one  entire  month.  He  played  for  two 
months  at  the  Haymarket,  and  then  went  to  Edinburgh. 
He  was  a  great  and  deserved  favorite  in  Modern  Athens 
Mr.  Hill's  health  which  had  been  much  improved  by  the 
sea  voyage  began  to  suffer  somewhat  from  his  residence 
ashore,  but  his  spirits  were  better,  nevertheless,  than  they 
had  been  before  leaving  home,  for  Mrs.  Hill  was  with  him 
to  cheer  and  sustain  him  with  her  attention  and  affection. 
He  left  Edinburgh  and  sailed  for  Dublin.  He  caught  a 
severe  cold  immediately  on  his  arrival  in  Ireland,  so  that 
on  the  first  night  of  his  appearance  he  was  scarcely  able  to 
make  himself  heard.  He  soon  recovered  from  this  and 
made  himself  heard  to  great  advantage,  for  few  strangers 
have  appeared  on  the  Dublin  boards  who  gained  warmer 
friends  or  left  behind  a  more  pleasing  impression.  During 
his  sojourn  in  Dublin,  he  made  an  excursion  to  a  country 
town,  a  few  miles  from  the  city,  for  the  purpose  of  picking 
up  odd  notions  for  future  use.  He  attended  a  meeting 
which  was  called  together  for  the  consideration  of  the  pro 
priety  of  building  a  new  jail.  Mr.  Hill  made  note  of  the 
following  items : 

"  Resolved. — That  a  new  jail  shall  be  built  on  the,  same 
spot  on  which  the  old  one  now  stands."  (Carried  unani- 
mosuly.) 

"  Resolved. — That,  for  the  sake  of  economy,  the  materials 
of  the  old  jail  should  be  used  in  the  construction  of  the 
new  one."  (Carried.) 

"  It  was  moved  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Phalem,  that  for  fear 
the  prisoners  should  escape,  that  the  ould  jail  should  not 
be  taken  down  until  the  new  one  was  built." 


YANKEE    HILL.  81 

Mr.  H.  next  appeared  in  Liverpool,  then  at  Nottingham 
and  Birmingham,  and  in  each  place  won  fresh  laurels. 
In  the  inside  of  the  coach  which  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Hill  took  at 
Birmingham  for  Nottingham,  was  a  fine,  portly  old  dame, 
whose  conversational  spring  seemed  to  have  been  wound 
up  and  warranted  not  to  run  down,  until  everybody  else 
was.  She  was  scarcely  seated  in  the  stage  when  she  com 
menced  by  addressing  Mr.  Hill,  thus : 

"  Sir,  do  you  know  Mr.  S ?" 

"  No.  madam." 

"  Dear  me,  why  I  thought  everybody  knew  him  !  He 

is  brother  to ,  who  married  Mrs.  G.'s  daughter ;  very 

respectable  people  in  Birmingham ;  and  there  is  Mr.  A.,  he 
has  a  son  in  the  army,  a  wild  young  man,  although  I  sup 
pose — black  moustaches — you  have  never — dark,  curly 
hair — seen  him  ?" 

The  old  lady  waited  for  no  reply,  either  from  Mr.  or 
Mrs.  Hill,  but  ran  on : 

"This  is  a  beautiful  country  along  here,"  she  continued. 

"  That  is  the  seat  of  Lord  ;  splendid  place,  is  it 

not  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  He  married  Lady ,  and  they  say  she  is  not  so 

happy  with  him  as  she  would  be  with  some  other  person.  I 
don't  know,  myself,  but  people  will  always  have  so  much 
to  say.  Strange  thing,  people  will  talk,  talk,  talk  ;  for  my 
part,  I  can't  see  the  sense  of  it.  What  a  fine  child  you 
have.  Is  that  your  child,  sir  ?" 

"  Why,  madam,  the  belief  that  I  am  the  father  of  my 
own  child,  is  one  of  those  romantic  sources  of  mundane 
pleasure  that  I  fully  indulge  in  at  the  present  moment." 

"  Yes,  sir,  no  doubt.  Look  here,  pupsy-tupsy,  look  at 
4* 


82  LIFE   AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

this  picture.  I  stop  at  Higby  ;  I  have  friends  there,  and 
my  house  is  not  far  off.  Where  do  you  go,  sir  ?" 

"To  Nottingham,  Madam." 

"  Nottingham  is  a  fine  town,  sir  ? — is  it  your  home  ?" 

"  No,  madam." 

"  You  go  there  to  see  friends  ?  Have  you  erer  been  on 
the  railroad  ?" 

The  coach  suddenly  stopped  at  an  hotel,  when  the  old 
lady  left  the  stage  and  met  an  acquaintance  with  whom  she 
shook  hands,  and  immediately  opened  her  lingual  battery. 
Just  as  the  coach  was  leaving,  the  old  lady  toddled  up  to 
the  coach  door  and  called  out  to  Mr.  Hill,  "  Sir,  sir,  I  may 
want  to  speak  of  you  to  my  friends  ;  will  you  be  so  kind  as 
to  give  me  your  name."  Before  a  reply  could  be  given, 
the  four  spanking  bays  of  the  road  had  separated  the  par 
ties  for  ever. 

Mr.  Hill  returned  to  London,  to  play  a  short  engagement 
previous  to  his  departure  to  France.  There  appeared  in 
one  of  the  London  papers,  an  article,  which  Mr.  Hill 
thought  reflected  a  little  strongly  upon  his  countrymen, 
and  he  addressed  the  following  note,  which  the  Editor  had 
the  fairness  to  publish. 

"  No.  5,  TAVISTOCK  Row,  COVENT  GARDEN. 

Dec.  17th,  1838. 

"  SIR  : — I  find  in  your  paper  of  yesterday,  an  article 
which  speaks  of  me  as  the  '  representative  of  the  peculiari 
ties  of  my  countrymen.'" 

"  Now  I  beg  to  state,  that  I  only  profess  to  give,  what  I 
know  to  be  a  faithful  picture  of  the  rustic  '  Down-easier? 
the  '  Yorkshireman'  of  America,  as  they  are  sometimes 
styled.  As  it  regards  a  gentleman,  they  are  the  same  in 


YANKEE    HILL.  83 

all  countries :  and  neither  '  Hiram  Dodge*  the  Pedlar,  nor 
'  Major  Wheeler*  of  the  Penobscot  Militia,  have  any  preten- 
tions  to  such  a  title.  Yours,  respectfully, 

«« G.  H.  HILL." 

Mr.  Hill,  having  obtained  his  passports,  proceeded  to 
Paris.  This  trip  was  undertaken  more  for  the  benefit  of 
his  health,  than  for  any  professional  purpose ;  but  there 
were  in  Paris  a  great  number  of  English  and  American  re 
sidents,  who  insisted  upon  his  giving  a  few  entertainments. 
They  could  not  think  of  allowing  him,  of  whom  they  had 
heard  so  much,  escape  them,  without  his  giving  a  touch  of 
his  quality.  The  following  letter  addressed  to  Mrs.  Hill, 
who  remained  in  London,  speaks  of  his  arrangements. 

"  EVER  DEAR  CORDELIA  : — I  am  in  Paris,  and  have  made 
arrangements  to  act  at  the  theatre  where  the  English  Com 
pany  played,  and  have  the  favorable  opinions  of  all  as  to 
the  success  of  the,  undertaking.  I  was  very  sea-sick  cross 
ing  from  Dover  to  Calais,  and  strained  till  I  brought  up 
some  blood,  which  alarmed  me  very  much.  The  journey 
in  the  coach  fatigued  me,  so  that  I  am  not  myself  exactly 
yet,  but  hope  to  be  in  a  few  days.  The  moment  I  com 
mence  operations,  you  shall  hear  from  me  again  (God  wil 
ling.)  Write  often  to  me,  for  a  favorable  line  from  you 
will  keep  me  in  spirits. 

"  Yours,  sincerely,  fond  and  true,          G.  H.  HILL." 

"Jan.  23d,  1839." 


Mr.  Hill,  gave  two  entertainments  in  the  French  Capital 
with    eminent    success.      The    French   critics,   although, 


84  LIFE   AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

perhaps,  scarcely  comprehending  the  humor  of  the  down- 
east  phraseology,  saw  in  him  and  so  esteemed  him,  a  Come 
dian  of  rare  endowments. 

During  his  sojourn  in  Paris,  he  attended  a  Masquerade 
Ball,  in  which  be  appeared  in  his  favorite  Yankee  character. 
It  is  customary  at  these  entertainments  for  the  masquer  to 
reveal  his  face  before  entering  the  room.  Mr.  Hill,  in  obe 
dience  to  the  rule,  took  off  his  mask  ;  he  had  scarcely 
shown  his  face  when  some  person  cried  out  "  Why,  Yankee 
Hill ;"  and  his  hands  were  instantly  seized  and  almost 
shaken  off  from  his  body  in  the  excessive  joy  of  the  person 
who  had  so  quickly  recognized  the  American  Comedian. 
There  is  something  deliciously  pleasant  in  these  unexpected 
meetings,  thousands  of  miles  away  from  home,  even  where 
the  parties  in  their  own  land  were  not  very  intimately  ac 
quainted  with  each  other,  as  was  the  case  here.  The  gen 
tleman  who  so  cordially  took  Mr.  Hill  by  the  hand,  had 
never  before  exchanged  a  word  with  him,  but  he  had  sat 
many  an  evening  at  the  Park  Theatre  and  enjoyed  his  com 
pany  with  unspeakable  delight,  and  he  thought  this  fact,  and 
the  magical  name  of  countryman,  was  justification  enough 
for  exercising  the  privileges  of  a  friendly  recognition. 
When  the  stranger  left  America,  Mr.  Hill  was  playing  at 
the  Park,  and  he  was  not  aware  of  his  visit  to  Europe  until 
he  saw  him  under  the  circumstances  I  have  just  related. 
Among  the  stories,  collected  by  themselves  in  another  part 
of  this  book,  will  be  found  a  sketch  of  the  American  Poli 
tical  loafer.  I  give  below,  one  of  a  French  loafer,  whom 
Mr.  Hill  met  in  Paris. 

Of  all  characters  well  calculated  to  excite  the  risible  fa 
culties,  and  appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  the  human  heart, 
beyond  doubt  it  is  the  unfortunate  and  destitute  French- 


YANKEE    HILL.  85 

man.  There  is  such  a  mingling  of  the  gay  and  cheerful, 
with  the  sombre  and  melancholy,  and  so  rapid  are  the 
changes  of  feeling,  that  it  is  not  wonderful,  if  we  have 
sometimes  thought  the  French  people  as  shallow  and  su 
perficial  in  feeling,  as  they  frequently  are,  in  what  are  called 
accomplishments.  But  amid  all  the  privations  to  which 
the  Frenchman  may  be  reduced,  his  motto  seems  to  be 
'  nil  desperandum."  I  once  encountered  a  Frenchman  of 
this  character  in  Paris,  and  amid  the  glitter  and  festal 
blaze  of  that  theatre  of  fashion,  he  seemed  as  lonely  as 
some  mouldering  ruin  of  past  centuries  amid  the  gaudy 
architecture  of  the  new  world.  Said  he, — '•  No  sar,  I  sal 
not  take  any  charitie,  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  go  do 
I  will  go  by  ye  river,  and  jump  myself  in,  and  they  sal 
see  me  no  more  nevare.  But,  poor  Marie  !  No !  no  !  I 
sal  do  no  such  sing.  I  sal  no  kill  myself,  for  she  sal  then 
starve ;  but,  Monsieur,  I  sal  starve  myself,  and  I  sal  live 
starving,  and  Marie  sal  fare  magnifique,  and  I  sal  live 
starving  to  be  happy,  and  see  her  live  as  well.  No,  no,  I 
sal  no  kill  myself." 

In  two  hours  from  that  time  I  met  him  again,  his  counte 
nance  wearing  a  smile  of  almost  cheerfulness,  apparently 
having  satisfied  himself  with  the  uncomfortable  philosophy 
of  going  without  eating. 

The  French  loafer  in  this  city  is,  perhaps,  after  all,  of  a 
higher  class  than  we  have  ever  mentioned.  He  saunters 
along  by  himself,  looking  the  picture  of  despair  ;  he  neither 
solicits  alms,  nor  does  he  complain  to  all.  He  has  appa 
rently  made  up  his  mind  for  his  fate,  and  alternating  be 
tween  despair  and  brightening  hope,  he  lingers  out  his  ca 
reer  until  relieved  by  the  charity  of  others  or  by  death. 

The  French  loafer,    by  choice,  is  to  be  found  in  the 


86  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

billiard  room, — the  Cafe, — the  Saloon,  and  but  too  often 
in  the  halls  of  our  fashionable  citizens,  who,  sometimes, 
with  a  desire  to  improve  acquaintance,  and  appear  some 
what  more  aristocratic,  endure  the  burden  of  their  com 
pany,  fascinated  by  that  most  magical  and  meaning  word 
a  French  Count.  The  first-mentioned  lives  at  the  billiard 
table ;  he  is  usually  an  expert  player,  or,  in  other  words,  a 
blackleg  ;  and  can  win  or  lose  as  it  suits  the  purposes  of 
the  game.  He  has  usually  a  large  dark  eye,  extensive 
whiskers,  and  hair  hanging  down  over  his  neck  of  the  most 
glorious  description.  He  utters  more  "  Got  dams"  and 
"  sacre  dieus"  than  would  set  up  a  whole  committee  of 
politicians  for  twelve  months.  The  last-named  order  of 
loafer,  is  the  especial  delight  of  ambitious  mothers  with 
marriageable  daughters,  and  the  daughters,  perhaps  un- 
unwilling  to  thwart  the  benevolent  intentions  of  their 
mammas  are  fascinated  by  the  "  dear,  delightful  Count," 
until  some  sensible  brother,  or  upright,  honest  father,  finds 
the  said  Count  to  have  been  an  impostor,  and,  after  a  few 
parting  hysterics,  surrenders  the  toy,  and  wonders  they 
"  ever  could  like  him." 

Before  leaving  Paris,  a  public  dinner  was  tendered  Mr. 
Hill  by  his  friends  and  admirers,  and  they  included  some 
distinguished  French  gentlemen,  almost  all  the  American 
and  English  residents,  then  sojourning  in  the  gay  capital. 
Mr.  H.  with  health  improved  and  in  gay  spirits,  returned 
to  London  to  fulfil  an  engagement  at  the  Haymarket.  He 
opened  on  this  occasion  with  a  new  piece  entitled  a  "  Wife 
for  a  Day,"  written  expressly  for  him  by  Mr.  Bernard. 
The  play  was  eminently  successful.  On  the  first  night  of 
its  representation,  Mr.  Hill  was  called  out,  and  he  announ 
ced  the  repetition  of  the  piece  every  night  until  further 


YANKEE    HILL.  87 

notice,  amidst  the  cheers  and  applause  of  the  gratified  au 
dience.  It  ran  without  interruption  for  an  entire  month. 
Whilst  in  London  this  season,  he  produced  Seth  Slope  with 
success.  Mr.  Hill  paid  £30  sterling  for  this,  but  for  each 
of  the  pieces  written  for  him  bj  Mr.  Bernard,  he  paid  forty 
pounds,  or  about  two  hundred  dollars.  In  the  summer  of 
1839,  Mr.  Wallack,  the  manager  of  the  National  Theatre, 
of  New  York,  visited  England,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
attractions  for  his  establishment.  He  met  with  Mr.  Hill  in 
London,  and  over-persuaded  him  to  accept  a  starring 
engagement  at  the  National.  He  was  announced  at  that 
establishment  among  the  attractive  stars  secured  by  the 
manager,  to  the  great  gratification  of  the  play-going  public. 
He  now  completed  all  his  arrangements,  and  left  England, 
in  the  British  Queen.  The  late  Mr.  Price  came  passenger 
with  him,  and,  during  the  passage,  used  all  his  rhetoric  to 
induce  Mr.  Hill  to  engage  for  the  Park,  but  without  effect. 
Mr.  H.  fulfilled  his  engagement  with  Mr.  Wallack,  much 
to  his  own  misfortune  and  loss,  as  it  eventuated,  in  conse 
quence  of  the  destruction  of  the  National  by  fire.  After 
playing  his  term  at  the  Park,  he  appeared  in  October,  in 
Boston,  where  he  was  received,  after  his  absence,  with  the 
utmost  enthusiasm.  He  left,  after  this,  for  Philadelphia, 
and  returned  to  Boston  again  in  December.  Mr.  Hill  used 
to  relate  with  great  unction,  the  well-meant,  but  equivocal 
ly  expressed  good  wishes,  of  an  Irishman  who  used  to 
make  the  fires  in  his  room  at  the  hotel.  Mr.  H.  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  giving  little  presents  and  orders  to  the 
theatre  to  his  good-natured  attendant,  which  won  his  heart. 
He  made  him  such  tremendous  fires,  that  he  almost  roast 
ed  him.  When  Mr.  H.  was  leaving  the  Tremont  House, 
the  Irishman  was  very  officious  in  helping  the  porter  with 


88  LIFE   AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

the  luggage.  When  the  luggage  was  all  arranged  in  the 
coach,  and  Mr.  Hill  was  seated,  ready  for  the  start,  Pat 
raised  his  cap  from  his  head  and  exclaimed,  "  Good-bye  to 
ye,  Mr.  Hill — long  life  to  yer  honor ;  I  hope  I  shall  have 
the  pleasure  of  making  fires  for  you  hereafter" 

In  the  Spring  of  1841,  whilst  in  Boston,  he  appeared  as 
Richard,  in  a  burlesque  on  the  tragedy.  In  the  last  scene, 
the  person  playing  Richmond  accidentally  gave  Mr.  Hill  a 
severe  blow  upon  the  face.  Thinking  he  was  seriously 
injured,  he  rushed  from  the  stage  :  the  prompter  met  him 
at  the  side  and  said,  "  Mr.  Hill,  you  did  not  die."  He 
returned  immediately,  and  said,  " Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I 
beg  pardon  ;  I  left  out  an  important  part  of  the  piece  ;  I 
have  quite  forgotten  to  die."  He  then  took  up  a  violin, 
and  playing  a  simple  tune,  laid  himself  down  and  died,  as 
calmly  as  though  nothing  had  occurred  to  interfere  with 
the  peace  of  his  last  end.  How  common  it  is  for  men, 
playing  on  the  stage  of  real  life,  to  forget  the  dying  scene, 
notwithstanding  the  promptings  so  plainly,  forcibly,  and 
frequently  given.  The  audience,  on  the  occasion  I  have 
just  related,  had  too  much  of  a  fellow  feeling  in  this  for- 
getfulness  of  death,  to  feel  aught  but  good  humor  at  the 
ready  manner  in  which  Mr.  Hill  repaired  his  error. 

Mr.  Hill  was  one  of  those  few  fortunate  men  who  were 
in  the  possession  of  a  happy  fireside.  No  matter  what 
distance  his  duties  may  have  placed  him  from  his  home, 
what  success  crowned  his  efforts,  what  attractive  gaieties 
may  have  gained  his  passing  admiration,  his  face  always 
turned  to  his  own  hearth,  the  East  of  his  adoration.  In 
reading  his  letters  to  his  wife,  bearing  dates  from  the 
period  of  his  first  professional  absence  from  home,  to  the 
time  when  his  fatal  sickness  seized  him,  I  have  been  struck 


YANKEE    HILL.  89 

with  the  almost  romantic  attachment  which  they  exhibit 
towards  the  partner  of  his  bosom.  No  professional  triumph 
or  success  seemed  to  be  complete  until  Mrs.  Hill  had 
marked  them  with  her  approval,  and  no  disaster  could  long 
depress  his  spirits  when  the  smiles  of  his  wife  and  children, 
and  the  cheerful  influence  of  his  own  fireside,  were  within 
reach  of  his  enjoyment. 

Mr.  Hill's  home  feelings  never  deserted  him  through 
life  :  his  attachment  to  his  wife  and  children  knew  no 
abatement.  He  was  gifted  with  an  uncommon  flow  of  ani 
mal  spirits,  and  he  took  as  much  delight  in  projecting 
little  entertainments  for  his  children,  or  winning  a  laugh 
from  his  wife  by  some  grotesque  assumption  of  character, 
as  he  did  in  laboring  for  the  amusement  of  the  brilliant 
audiences  which  assembled  to  witness  his  efforts. 

In  writing  the  biography  of  a  man,  the  task  is  but  half 
completed  if  only  the  great  points  of  his  career  are  re 
corded.  In  circumstances  likely  to  come  under  public 
notice,  men  are  on  their  guard,  and  act  with  caution.  We 
can  judge  of  the  ability  of  an  actor  on  the  stage,  but  it  is 
behind  the  scenes  that  we  must  go  to  study  the  character 
of  the  man.  To  say  that  Mr.  Hill  was  a  great  comedian, 
that  he  personated  this  or  the  other  character  with  exqui 
site  truthfulness,  only  excites  the  curiosity  of  the  thinking, 
to  know  how  he  appeared,  acted,  thought  and  spoke  when 
he  was  himself.  The  world  is  very  apt  to  think  and  do  as 
the  countryman,  who,  when  thrown  accidentally  "in  'com 
pany  with  a  celebrated  actor,  asked  him  "  to  be  funny," 
and  was  wonderfully  disappointed  to  find  that  the  comic 
actor  had  his  serious  and  thoughtful  moments. 

In  all  that  related  to  the  higher  duties,  which  devolve 
upon  a  father  towards  his  children,  Mr.  Hill  was  seriously 


90  LIFE   AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

impressed.  Their  moral  and  intellectual  education  re 
ceived  an  attention  commensurate  with  its  importance,  and 
although  he  would  often  enter  into  their  sports  and  enter 
tain  them  with  odd  personations  and  imitations,  they  knew 
very  well  no  license,  if  unseemly,  or  disobedient  conduct 
could  be  drawn  from  this.  / 

In  a  profession  surrounded  with  such  temptations  to 
convivial  enjoyment,  as  is  that  of  the  actor,  Mr.  Hill  must 
have  been  more  than  human,  if  he  could  at  all  times  have 
avoided  a  participation  in  them.  An  attendance  upon 
public  festivities  and  private  parties  are  among  the  sacri 
fices  which  an  eminent  actor  must  make  ;  and  I  have  often 
thought,  that  too  little  allowance  is  made  for  the  apparently 
gay  life  the  actor  sometimes  leads,  considering  the  urgent 
demands  continually  made  upon  his  time  and  company. 
An  actor  lives  upon  the  approbation  of  the  public,  and 
although  he  may  desire  to  live  in  private  ever  so  much,  he 
must  take  the  public  by  the  hand,  off  as  well  as  on  the 
stage  ;  and  he  is  thus,  perforce,  compelled  to  submit  to  pur 
suits  and  pleasures  foreign  alike  to  his  tastes  and  inclina 
tions.  Mr.  Hill,  would,  at  all  times,  if  left  to  his  own  se 
lection,  have  preferred  the  quiet  joys  of  his  own  fireside  to 
the  most  sumptuous  entertainment  ever  offered  for  his  ac 
ceptance. 

The  approbation  of  lite  wife  was  to  him  a  sine  qua  noh 
to  every  novelty  he  intended  to  produce  before  the  public ; 
and,  when  on  the  first  trial  of  a  new  entertainment,  he  had 
Mrs.  Hill  among  his  auditors,  so  placed,  that  he  could  see 
her,  he  was  perfectly  happy  if  she  seemed  pleased  and 
entertained.  Had  Mr.  H.  been  any  other  sort  of  man  than 
what  he  was, — if  you  please,  dissipated,  thoughtless,  gay, 
— the  satisfaction  he  felt,  simply  from  the  approbation  of 


YANKEE    HILL.  91 

the  partner  of  his  life,  displayed  an  integrity  and  soundness 
of  heart  which  would  safely  guard  the  fireside  from  the 
invasion  of  evil  influences. 

Mr.  Hill  was  very  fond  of  taking  his  family  by  surprise 
after  an  absence,  and  would  sometimes  appear  at  the  door 
of  his  dwelling  so  disguised,  that  even  his  own  children 
knew  him  not.  He  used  to  tell  an  incident  of  this  kind 
with  great  relish,  because,  in  this  case,  he  not  only  deceived 
his  children,  but  his  wife,  and  this  was  a' triumph  not  to  be 
held  lightly.  He  went  down  town  one  evening,  on  some 
business,  which  detained  him  until  after  dark.  When  he 
reached  his  home  he  gently  opened  the  door  with  his  latch 
key,  closed  it  and  stood  quietly  in  the  hall.  It  was  but 
the  work  of  a  moment  to  disarrange  his  dress,  crush  his 
hat  down  upon  his  head,  and  assume  the  reckless  dishabille 
of  a  drunken  man.  He  then  made  some  sort  of  noise  to 
call  the  attention  of  the  family  to  the  fact  that  some  one 
was  there.  Mrs.  Hill  sent  her  little  boy  to  see  who  was 
at  the  door.  It  was  but  a  minute,  and  the  little  fellow  re 
turned  in  alarm,  telling  his  Ma,  that  there  was  a  drunken 
man  standing  in  the  hall.  Mrs.  Hill,  her  servant  girl  and 
the  children  were  alone  in  the  house,  and  as  drunken  men 
are  not  apt  to  be  over  nice  and  delicate  in  their  conduct,  it 
will  be  admitted,  that  such  an  intrusion  was  well  calculated 
to  produce  alarm.  A  council  of  war  was  held  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  it  was  resolved,  boldly  to  face  the  enemy.  Fe 
male  arms  are  the  most  powerful  weapons  in  the  world  in 
the  wars  of  love  and  friendship,  but  they  are  powerless  in 
defensive  attacks,  so  that  it  was  deemed  prudent  in  the 
present  instance  that  the  alarmed  family  should  die,  at 
least,  with  harness  on  their  backs,  and  each  seizing  upon 
the  family  arms,  represented  here  by  shovel,  tongs,  poker, 


92  LIFE   AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

broom,  &c.,  the  army  marched  up  stairs  to  the  attack. 
Mrs.  Captain  Hill  courageously  led  the  way  :  she  was  the 
first  to  mount  the  stairs  from  the  basement ;  on  reaching 
the  top  she  paused  to  collect  her  forces  :  this  done,  she 
marched  boldly  on,  resolving  to  do  or  die.  It  was  no  false 
alarm  ;  there,  sure  enough,  stood  the  enemy.  The  foe  was 
struck  with  amazement  at  the  belligerent  attitude  of  his 
own  household,  but  unable  longer  to  resist  the  ludicrous 
position  of  his  family,  he  burst  out  laughing  and  declared 
himself  vanquished.  Arms  were  recovered,  and  all  joined 
in  the  mirth  inspired  by  the  trick. 

It  would  be  a  tedious  as  well  as  unprofitable  pursuit,  to 
follow  Mr.  Hill  through-  the  various  stages  of  his  theatrical 
career,  after  his  return  from  England,  to  the  time  of  his 
decease,  although  embracing  a  period  of  nearly  ten  years. 
He  appeared,  again  and  again,  in  all  the  principal  cities  of 
the  Union,  pausing  occasionally  at  some  country  place, 
generally  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  the  inhabitants,  to 
relieve  the  tedium  of  their  country-town  life  with  his  eccen 
tricities  and  drolleries.  For  several  years,  dating  from 
1840,  theatrical  affairs  throughout  the  whole  Union  were 
in  a  very  depressed  condition.  The  re-action  which  fol 
lowed  the  excitement  caused  by  Fanny  Ellsler,  the  ruin 
produced  to  managers  by  a  persistence  in  the  starring 
system,  the  lecture  and  concert  mania  which  prevailed  for 
several  years,  all  tended  to  depress  dramatic  affairs.  From 
1840  to  1845,  Mitchell's  Olympic  was  the  only  theatre  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  in  a  prosperous  condition.  The 
Park  opened  and  closed  with  convulsive  efforts  at  re-anima 
tion,  until  it  fell,  exhausted  by  its  own  efforts.  It  passed 
from  the  hands  of  Mr.  Simpson,  who  had  controlled  its 
fortunes  for  nearly  thirty  years,  into  the  hands  of  Mr. 


YANKEE    HILL.  93 

Hamblin,  who,  in  his  turn,  was  relieved  of  its  weight  by  a 
fortunate  accident,  which  burnt  down  the  house,  without 
burning  his  fingers.  Mr.  Hill  appeared  occasionally  in 
this  city  during  these  times  of  depression,  and  with  quite 
as  much,  if  not  more  success,  than  other  stars  who  appeared 
at  that  period. 

In  the  years  1844  and  1845  he  resided  in  Fourth  Ave 
nue,  near  Union  Square,  New  York.  Returning  home  one 
evening  very  late,  after  performing,  he  was  startled  by  the 
sobs  of  a  female  he  saw  sitting  on  the  stoop  of  a  house, 
close  by  where  he  was  passing.  She  was  weeping  bitterly. 
He  was  not  the  man  to  pass  heedlessly  along,  leaving  a 
fellow-creature  by  the  wayside  in  trouble,  without  making 
an  effort  to  allay,  or  to  relieve  it.  He  questioned  her  of 
the  cause  of  her  distress.  She  did  not  seem  disposed  to 
reply,  until,  at  length,  overcome  by  the  kind  tones  in  which 
she  was  addressed,  told  her  sad,  but,  alas,  too  common 
story.  She  had  been  enticed  to  the  city  by  a  treacherous 
villain,  under  a  promise  of  marriage.  He  took  her  to  a 
house  of  infamy,  on  their  arrival  in  the  city,  and  left  her 
there  alone,  promising  only  to  be  absent  long  enough  to 
transact  some  necessary  business  in  another  part  of  the 
city. 

Ere  he  came  back,  the  poor  girl  had  learned  the  charac 
ter  of  the  house  in  which  her  deceitful  lover  had  left  her. 
Without  waiting  his  re-appearance,  and  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  degraded  inmates  of  the  house,  she  made 
her  escape,  and  had  been  wandering  about  the  city  until 
Mr.  Hill,  fortunately  met  her.  He  himself  was  a  father, 
and  with  a  father's  care  conducted  the  poor  wanderer  to 
his  own  dwelling,  where  she  received,  in  the  kindness  of 
Mrs.  Hill,  another  evidence  that  the  race  of  good  Sama- 


94  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

ritans  is  not  quite  extinct  in  the  world.  The  next  morn 
ing  Mr.  Hill  sent  the  girl  home  to  her  parents,  who  were 
residing  in  Middletown,  Connecticut. 

On  the  1st  of  January,  1847,  Mr.  H.  gave  an  entertain 
ment  at  the  Broadway  Tabernacle,  to  a  very  large  and 
brilliant  audience ;  numbering,  as  I  am  informed,  about 
three  thousand  persons.  In  the  opening  of  the  same  year, 
he  went  to  Batavia,  1ST.  Y.,  to  fulfil  a  contract  made  be 
tween  him  and  a  gentleman  of  that  town,  for  the  country- 
seat  now  occupied  by  the  widow,  Mrs.  Hill,  and  her  inte 
resting  family.  The  last  theatre  in  which  Mr.  Hill  appeared 
was  Mitchell's  Olympic.  He  played  a  starring  engagement 
here  of  twelve  nights,  drawing  excellent  houses.  I  saw 
him  several  times  on  this  occasion,  and  thought  I  had 
never  seen  him  play  with  more  freshness  and  spirit.  Dur 
ing  the  last  twelve  months  he  employed  his  time  profes 
sionally,  in  giving  lectures  here  and  there,  returning  as 
often  as  he  could  to  his  house  in  Batavia,  loaded  with 
golden  profits.  He  was  essentially  a  domestic  man,  and 
never  was  so  happy  as  when  in  the  midst  of  his  family. 
Without  any  pharisaical  ostentation  of  religion,  Mr.  Hill 
was  careful  to  inculcate  in  the  members  of  his  family  a  due 
observance  of  their  religious  duties.  There  are  a  great 
many  unchristian  professors  of  Christianity,  who  are  un 
able  to  reconcile,  in  their  austere  and  contracted  minds,  the 
existence  of  a  religious  sentiment  with  the  pursuits  of  the 
actor.  They  judge  him  as  they  themselves  would  not  like 
to  be  judged,  viz.  with  the  mask  on.  They  do  not  follow 
the  player  to  his  home,  and  watch  him  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family.  They  take  no  count  of  the  private  bending  of  the 
knee,  the  humble  supplications  which  he  offers  at  the  foot 
stool  of  God's  Almighty  throne,  but  taking  him  as  he  ap- 


YANKEE    HILL.  95 

pears  in  the  midst  of  his  vocation,  fling  him  to  perdition 
without  hope  or  charity.  I  do  not  claim  for  Mr.  Hill  that 
he  was  what  is  appropriately  enough,  I  think,  called  a 
professing  Christian,  that  is,  he  did  not 

"  Display  to  congregations  wide 
Devotions  every  grace,  except  the  heart ;" 

but  he  was  a  practical  one  in  charity  and  good  feeling 
towards  his  fellows.  He  had,  besides,  a  sustaining  confi 
dence  in  the  providence  of  God.  No  trouble  ever  weighed 
upon  him,  but  he  found  in  this  reliance  a  cheerful  hope  of 
speedy  relief.  This  feeling,  whether  a  superstition  of  reli 
gion,  rather  than  a  principle  evolved  by  a  reasoning  faith, 
always  kept  him  up  in  the  hour  of  trial,  and  consoled  him 
under  every  difficulty.  This  feeling  grew  with  his  growth, 
and,  during  the  last  few  months  of  his  existence,  he  was 
seriously  impressed  by  his  spiritual  condition.  Whatever 
appeared  in  his  entertainment,  which  could,  by  any  possi 
bility  be  construed  into  anything  offensive  to  the  purest 
taste,  was  carefully  excluded,  and  he  even  went  so  far  as 
to  ask  several  eminent  clergymen,  if  they  saw  anything  in 
his  entertainments,  "  contra,  bonos  mores." 

In  May,  1848,  Mr.  Hill  appeared  in  Brooklyn,  before 
immense  audiences.  He  was  always  a  favorite  in  that  city, 
and  ever  attracted  the  best  people  of  the  place.  In  the 
summer  he  played  also  at  Sharon  Springs,  and  then  in 
August,  visited  Saratoga  for  the  purpose  of  lecturing  to 
the  fashionables  collected  there.  He  was  taken  sick  soon 
after  his  arrival.  He  had  advertised  to  appear  on  a  cer 
tain  evening,  and,  although  it  would  have  been  better  had 
he  broken  his  faith  in  this  case,  and  nursed  himself  up 


96  LIFE    AND    RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

for  future  labors,  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  do  so, 
and  after  consulting  his  physician,  who  consented  to  the 
step,  he  left  his  sick  bed  and  proceeded  to  the  lecture 
room.  He  was  behind  the  time  advertised  for  his  com 
mencement,  and  when  he  entered  he  was  greeted  with 
marked  signs  of  disapprobation.  He  mildly  rebuked  the 
audience,  by  explaining  the  cause  of  his  detention,  and 
more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,  remarked,  that  in  the  course 
of  his  varied  career,  he  had  often  waited  with  patience  for 
an  audience,  but  he  had  never  till  this  moment  kept  an 
audience  waiting.  The  audience  felt  the  rebuke,  and  with 
ready  contrition,  cheered  and  applauded  him  then  and 
during  the  whole  evening.  How  little  do  the  audience 
know,  or  even  care,  for  the  suffering  which  the  actor  some 
times  endures,  when  he  is  most  successful  in  contributing 
to  their  enjoyment.  The  bills  of  the  day  are  out,  the 
theatre  is  filled  with  beauty  and  fashion,  and  the  enter 
tainment  must  come  off  though  the  principal  actor  may  be 
tortured  in  body,  ready  to  sink  with  sickness,  or  perchance, 
as  I  have  known,  torn  from  the  bedside  of  a  sick  wife,  or 
dying  child,  to  fret  his  hour  upon  the  stage,  convulse 
others  with  laughter,  whilst  his  own  tortured  heart  was 
swelling  with  agony,  almost  to  bursting.  Mr.  Hill  left  the 
lecture-room  for  his  bed,  from  which  he  never  rose  again 
in  health.  He  was  ailing  for  some  time  before  his  symp 
toms  became  so  alarming  as  to  render  it  necessary  to  send 
for  Mrs.  Hill :  at  length  this  became  necessary.  She  re 
ceived  the  sad  missive,  and  hastened  to  the  couch  of  her 
beloved  husband.  Her  presence  was  so  inspiring  in  its 
influence  upon  him,  that  there  seemed  a  distant  hope  that 
he  might  yet  rally  and  be  restored  to  her  ;  but  alas  !  such 
hopes  speedily  vanished  and  gave  way  to  the  solemn  con- 


YANKEE    HILL.  97 

viction  that  his  battle  of  life  was  fast  drawing  to  a  close. 
]yir.  Hill  himself  had  been  for  some  time  under  the  impres 
sion,  that  he  should  not  live  long,  and  when  he  was  attacked 
with  the  bilious  diarrhea,  he  never  flattered  himself 
with  the  hope  of  recovery.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Milledolar 
payed  him  frequent  visits  during  his  sickness,  in  fact,  was 
daily  with  him  until  his  death.  Mrs.  Hill  never  left  his 
bedside  for  a  moment,  and  frequently,  when  the  labor  of 
speaking  was  too  much  for  him,  would  he  turn  his  still 
sparkling  and  expressive  eye  towards  her,  and  in  looks,  tell 
of  the  love  and  affection  of  his  heart.  He  retained  the  full 
possession  of  his  senses  until  a  few  hours  of  his  death. 
The  sad,  awful  moment  at  length  arrived,  when  the  ties 
which  bound  him  to  this  world  were  to  be  unloosed,  and 
the  spirit  set  free.  Mrs.  Hill  sat  by  his  side.  He  appeared 
to  be  calmly  sleeping.  A  soft  smile  played  upon  his  lips. 
His  breathing  was  gentle  as  an  infant's.  She,  whose 
heart  had  known  no  other  lord,  whose  affections  had  known 
no  alteration  save  in  increase  of  growth  and  strength,  sat 
sadly  by  and  watched  his  sweet  and  gentle  slumbering, 
and  could  hardly  realize  that  death  could  be  so  near. 
The  lips  parted,  a  gentle  sigh  escaped,  and  the  "wheel  at 
the  cistern  had  ceased  to  turn  for  ever." 

He  died  on  the  27th  of  September,  1848,  in  the  40th 
year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried  in  the  cemetery  of  Saratoga. 
The  Rev.  Mr.  Babcock,  of  Ballston,  performed  the  fune 
ral  ceremonies  at  the  house,  and  those  at  the  grave  side 
were  conducted  by  a  chaplain  of  the  order  of  Odd  Fellows, 
of  which  institution  Mr.  Hill  was  a  worthy  member. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS. 


MR.  HILL  VISITS  WASHINGTON. 


IN  1846,  Mr.  Hill  paid  a  visit  to  Washington  City.  He 
was  there  during  the  excitement  which  prevailed  upon  the 
Oregon  question.  It  would  have  been  impossible,  perhaps, 
for  a  man  of  much  less  excitable  temperament  than  Mr. 
Hill,  to  have  been  in  Washington  at  that  time,  and  have 
escaped  the  patriotic  epidemic  which  then  prevailed  to 
such  an  alarming  extent.  His  patriotism  became  rampant, 
and  he  opened  the  flood-gates  of  his  eloquence,  and  poured 
forth  such  a  powerful  stream,  that  all  who  opposed  his 
views  were  nigh  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  The 
speech  which  he  made  in  Washington,  night  after  night,  to 
immense  audiences,  will  be  found  carefully  reported  below. 
Daniel  Webster  might  possibly  have  made  a  more  solid 
speech,  Clay  a  more  eloquent  one,  John  Quincy  Adams, 
one  more  fruitful  of  sage  experience  ;  but  neither  of  them. 
I  will  venture  to  say,  could  have  made  one  quite  like  it. 
But  let  the  reader  judge  for  himself. 

SPEECH    ON    THE    OREGON    QUESTION. 

"  Whoia !  here  I  am,  and  intend,  in  a  very  few  and 
expressive  terms,  to  speak  my  sentiments.  Mr.  Speaker, 

101 


102  YANKEE    HILL. 

I  ha  ye  come  ail  the  way  from  Oregon,  to  see,  in  behalf  of 
wy  afficted  neighbors,  who  live  a  considerable  distance 
apart,  and  I  want  to  know,  what  in  thunder  you're  about 
here,  in  this  comfortable  location,  while  your  fellow-coun 
try  men,  who  are  not  allowed  to  emigrate  north  of  the 
Columbia  River,  on  account  of  a  raging  he- calf  who  is 
bla-ting  on  the  other  side  ;  but,  thunder  and  squashes !  can 
this  longer  be  borne  ?  No  !  Can  the  free  inhabitants,  who 
have  emigrated  there  with  the  full  belief  that  protection 
was  to  be  extended  to  them  from  the  great  republic,  bear 
the  yoke  of  British  law  and  British  tyranny  ?  No,  sir  !  we 
expect  you  to  guard  us  from  the  sneers  and  insults  of  sav 
ages,  subject  and  give  us  aid,  and  to  plant  the  standard  of 
our  country  immutably  on  the  54-40,  and,  if  anything,  a 
leetle  north.  Powder  and  gun-flints !  must  we  give  up 
what  is  clearly  proved  by  many  of  our  great  men — and 
though  not  set  down  in  Webster's  Spelling  Book — to 
belong  to  us ;  will  any  man,  who  has  pure  American  blood 
coursing  through  his  veins,  say,  let  it  go,  'cause  we're 
afraid  to  fight  ?  No,  sir !  no !  it  is  not  in  the  natur  of 
Liberty  boys  to  allow  any  usurpation  of  our  rights :  let  us 
be  guided  by  Crockett's  motto,  '  First,  be  sure  you're  right, 
then  go  ahead?  I've  killed  four  horses,  worn  out  three 
pair  of  trousers  and  a  pair  of  saddle-bags,  besides  spending 
all  my  money,  to  come  here,  and  I  must  know  before  I  go 
back,  which  way  the  cat  jumps,  or  both  countries  shall  hear 
from  me,  to  their  entire  satisfaction,  sooner  or  later.  I've 
left  my  grandmother,  father,  wife,  three  children,  six  cows, 
two  bosses,  eighteen  sheep,  a  gross  of  turkeys,  geese,  hens, 
chickens,  a  black  dog,  and  a  gray  cat,  who  fondly  look  for 
my  return,  and  I  wish  to  know,  without  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt,  whether  we  are  to  be  protected,  or  not,  by  this 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  103 

government,  or  are  we  tew  be  trampled  under  the  iron 
hoofs  of  Europe's  roaring  Bull.  We  are  strong  and  true  at 
heart  for  our  country,  but  we  are  as  yet  too  few  in  num 
ber  to  offer  just  resistance.  Give  us  a  chance  for  a  few 
years,  however,  and  we  will  then  look  out  for  ourselves. 
Yet  the  time  is  not  far  off,  when  the  locomotive  will  be 
steaming  its  way  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  with  a  mighty- 
big  train  of  cars  running  after  it.  Yes,  the  whistle  of  the 
engine  will  echo  through  the  South-west  Pass,  and  sharply 
hint  to  the  free  people  of  that  great  territory  the  approach 
of  hundreds  and  thousands  tew,  who  are  to  be  their  neigh 
bors.  No,  sir,  the  time  is  not  far  distant,  when  our  com 
merce  with  China  will  equal  that  of  all  the  world  ;  when 
the  Pacific  Ocean  will  be  crossed  with  as  much  ease  as  the 
Frog  pond  on  Boston  Common.  Yes,  Mr.  Speaker,  as  my 
eloquent  friend  from  the  Hoosier  State  remarks,  '  Men  of 
blood,  and  friends  of  General  Washington,  and  that  old 
boss,  General  Jackson,  I  want  your  attention.  Lightnin* 
has  burst  upon  us ;  and  Jupiter  has  poured  out  the  He  of 
his  wrath.  Thunder  has  broke  loose  and  slipped  its  cable, 
and  is  now  rattling  down  the  mighty  Valley  of  the  Missis 
sippi,  accompanied  by  the  music  of  the  alligator's  hornpipe. 
Citizens  and  fellers ;  on  the  bloody  ground  on  which  our 
fathers  catawampously  poured  out  their  claret  free  as  ile, 
to  enrich  the  soil  over  which  we  now  honor  and  watch 
with  hyena  eyes,  let  the  catamount  of  the  inner  varrnint 
loose  and  prepare  the  engines  of  vengeance,  for  the  long 
looked-for  day  has  come.  The  crocodile  of  the  Mississippi 
has  gone  into  his  hole,  and  the  sun  that  lit  King  David 
and  his  host  across  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  looks  down  upon 
the  scene,  and  drops  a  tear  to  its  memory.'  I  am  with 
T  /••  «n)d  v\tfe  Uie  stars  of  Uncle  Sam,  and  the  stripes  of 


YANKEE    HILL. 

his  country,  triumph  and  float  in  the  breeze,  whar,  whar  is 
the  craven,  low-lived,  chicken-bred,  toad-hoppin',  red- 
mouthed  mother's  son  of  ye  who  will  not  raise  the  beacon- 
light  of  triumph,  smouse  the  citadel  of  the  aggressor,  and 
press  onward  to  liberty  and  glory  ?  Wha-ah  !  Hurrah  ! 
where's  the  inimy  ?" 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  105 


THE  MUSICAL   FAMILY. 


IN  the  fall  of  1843,  Mr.  Hill  was  travelling  one  night 
through  the  woods  of  Georgia  in  a  stage  coach.  It  was 
pitchy  dark,  and  the  driver,  mistaking  the  road,  left  the 
right  track  and  upset  the  coach.  There  were  quite  a  num 
ber  of  passengers,  and  among  them  a  very  corpulent  Ala- 
bamian  planter.  Fortunately,  Mr.  Hill  had  matches.  A 
light  was  quickly  struck,  and  the  passangers  soon  got  out 
of  the  coach  in  which  the  shock  had  huddled  them  in  a 
heap.  The  fat  planter  caused  some  little  trouble  in  lifting 
out  his  unwieldy  carcass.  None  of  them  were  seriously 
hurt.  Mr.  Hill  always  carried  a  sort  of  medicine  chest 
with  him,  and  he  was  enabled  to  administer  to  the  bruised 
and  wounded  secundem  artem.  The  kindness  and  attention 
he  displayed  to  his  fellow-travellers  on  this  occasion,  so 
won  upon  the  feelings  of  the  Alabamian,  that  he  insisted, 
and  would  take  no  denial,  on  Mr.  Hill  going  home  with  him. 
The  planter  was  such  a  good-natured,  kind-hearted,  jovial 
fellow,  that  Mr.  Hill  could  not  resist  his  importunities,  and 
so  consented  to  accompany  him  home.  He  was  well  re 
ceived  at  the  hospitable  mansion  of  the  planter.  He  was 
a  widower,  with  a  grown  up  son  and  daughter,  his  house 
keeper,  a  maiden  sister.  The  maiden  sister  was  particular 
ly  gracious  to  Mr.  Hill,  for  it  was  not  often  that  a  strange 
male  critter  found  his  way  to  their  secluded  fireside.  In 
6* 


106  YANKEE    HILL. 

the  evening,  when  the  wine  had  circulated  a  little  freely, 
the  host  proposed  to  have  some  music.  "  Come,  sister," 
said  he,  "sing  Mr.  Hill,  'Is  there  a  heart  that  never 
loved.'  " 

"  Oh,  brother,"  replied  the  ancient  maiden,  screwing  her 
mouth  into  a  pucker,  and  turning  her  head  affectedly,  "  I 
really  can't." 

"  No  can'ts  here,  sister ;  you  don't  want  Mr.  Hill  to 
find  out  how  old  you  are.  Come,  you  must  sing,  for  I  want 
to  show  him  that  we  are  rather  a  musical  family  ;  so  come, 
tune  up." 

Overcome  by  her  brother's  peculiarly  persuasive  and 
eloquent  manner,  the  maiden  lady  gave  another  twist  of  her 
mouth,  and  commenced  in  a  sharp,  shrill  voice — 

"  Is  there  a  heart  that  never  loved  ?" 

The  key  in  which  she  sang,  might  have  been  the  cellar 
key,  for  any  resemblance  it  bore  to  anything  appertaining 
to  music.  She  had  not  sang  half  the  first  stanza,  when  her 
brother  interrupted  her. 

"Sister,"  said  he,  "you  are  all  wrong: — my  son,  see  if 
you  can  succeed  better." 

This  young  man  was  a  bony  gawky,  of  about  seventeen 
years  of  age.  His  voice  was  a  mixed  breed ;  one  some 
thing  between  a  manly  bass  and  childish  treble.  He 
began — 

"  Is  there  a  heart  that  never  loved  ?" 

The  first  three  or  four  words  were  sung  in  a  deep  bass, 
and  the  rest  of  the  line  in  a  high  tenor. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  107 

'•  Pshaw,"  said  the  father,  "  why  you  can't  sing  it  either. 
Are  you  frightened  at  Mr.  Hill  ?  Hear  me,  I'll  try." 

"  Is  there  a  heart  that  never  loved  ? 
Or  felt  soft  woman's  sighs." 

The  old  man  puffed  and  blowed  through  the  entire  song, 
much  to  his  own  satisfaction. 

"  There,  Mr.  Hill,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"  It  is  very  well,  sir,  but  it  is  not  exactly  as  I  have  been 
in  the  habit  of  hearing  it." 

"  Indeed  !  then,  Mr.  Hill,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  hear 
your  way." 

"  Mr.  Hill  then  commenced, 

*'  Is  there  a  heart  that  never  loved  ?" 

and  gave  it,  of  course,  correctly. 

it  Well,  well,  that  is  all  very  well,  and  very  nice,  I  dare 
say,  but  I  think  I  can  do  that  song  pretty  well  for  a  bass 
voice ;  but,  lord  !  it's  all  a  matter  of  taste ;  some  would 
like  yours  and  some  mine.  Mr.  Hill,  won't  you  tell  sister 
one  of  your  funny  stories  ?" 

"  Oh  do !  he,  he,  he !"  sniggered  the  maiden.  "  Oh, 
do!" 

Mr.  Hill  looked  her  earnestly  in  the  face  and  began : 

tl  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Deb  Hawkins  ?" 

'*  No,  sir,  he,  he,  he !"  said  the  old  lady,  unconscious 
that  Mr.  Hill  l.ad  commenced  a  story.  "  No,  sir,  I  never 
heard  of  her  in  all  my  life." 

"She  is  a  shocking  nice  gal.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  she 
could  make  pumpkin  pies  good  enough  to  make  a  fellow's 


108  YANKEE    HILL. 

mouth  water.  You  see,  I  once  courted  her  a  little,  just 
to  see  how  it  would  feel." 

"He,  he,  he  !"  tittered  the  old  woman,  her  sympathies 
all  excited. 

"  Says  I  to  her  one  night,  Deb,  ain't  you  goin'  to  sit  down 
on  my  knee  nor  nothin*.  (The  maiden  lady  put  her  hand 
kerchief  to  her  face.)  Says  Deb,  putting  her  hand  over 
her  eyes,  '  Oh,  git  eout,  Joe,'  so  I  tuck  hold  on  her,  and 
hauled  her  down.  She  squirmed  round,  but  I  held  on  of 
course,  'cause  I  know'd  it  was  the  natur  of  the  critter." 

'*  He,  he,  he !  What  a  funny  man  you  are,  Mr.  Hill." 

"  By  and  by,  Deb  got  quieted  down  a  spell,  and  took  a 
kiss  jest  as  easy." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hill,  he,  he,  he  !" 

"  Oh,  she  was  an  all  fired  nice  gal,  tew." 

"  Did  she  marry  ?  he,  he,  he  !"  inquired  the  lady. 

i(  I  was  goin'  to  say,  she  was  an  all  fired  nice  gal  to  kiss, 
but  phew !  what  a  temper !  It  got  so  hot  sometimes,  it 
burnt  a  hole  clean  through  her  good  manners." 

So  passed  the  evening  at  the  house  of  the  Alabamian. 
Mr.  Hill  was  repaid  for  the  misery  of  being  obliged  to  lis 
ten  to  their  musical  efforts  by  being  furnished  with  the  ma 
terial  of  an  entertaining  imitation,  which  was  received  by 
his  audiences  with  great  relish. 


ANECDOTES    AND   INCIDENTS.  109 


THE  NERVOUS  ARTIST.— THE  GAMBLER 
RESCUED. 


Mr.  Hill's  third  visit  to  New  Orleans  was  not  only  highly 
successful  in  a  theatrical  point  of  view,  but  replete  with 
incidents  of  a  character  which  Mr.  Hill  remembered  with 
great  satisfaction.  -  During  his  passage  down  the  Missis 
sippi  with  Mr.  Jarvis,  an  artist  from  Louisville,  they  became 
so  attached  to  each  other,  that  on  their  arrival  in  New 
Orleans,  they  engaged  rooms  in  company.  The  Crescent 
City,  at  that  time,  bore  quite  a  different  reputation  from  that 
which  it  enjoys  at  present.  Persons  were  frequently 
knocked  down,  and  robbed  in  the  streets,  and  mysterious 
assassination  added  its  horrors  to  scenes  of  brawl  and 
rowdyism.  Mr.  Jarvis  was  a  man  of  an  exceedingly  nerv 
ous  temperament,  and  timid  to  a  degree.  He  was  tremb 
lingly  alive  to  the  danger  which,  as  he  supposed,  beset  the 
stranger  at  every  turn  in  New  Orleans,  and  always  went 
armed  to  the  teeth,  although  it  is  very  doubtful  if  he  could 
have  mustered  up  sufficient  nerve  to  use  his  weapons,  had 
their  use  been  needed.  Besides  Bowie  knives,  pistols,  and 
other  playthings  of  this  character,  he  had  a  dog,  and  al 
though  it  was  one  of  the  smallest  kind  of  pet  poodles,  it 
was  quite  large  enough  to  suggest  to  the  ready  mind  of 
Mr.  Hill,  a  sort  of  placebo  to  his  friend's  sense  of  danger. 
He  very  seriously  printed  a  placard  containing  the  follow- 


110  YANKEE    HILL. 

ing  ominous  hint — "  Take  care  of  the  Dog,"  which  he 
posted  up  on  the  outside  of  their  room  door.  The  experi 
ment  succeeded  to  admiration,  having  only  one  little  draw 
back,  for  it  scared  away  friends,  as  well  as  less  welcome 
intruders ;  for,  of  course,  neither  friend  nor  foe  could  tell 
from  instinct,  the  size  and  ferocity  of  the  animal  of  whom 
they  were  notified  to  beware.  Things  went  on  very 
smoothly,  and  Mr.  Jarvis'  throat  was  still  uncut,  and  his 
wallet,  safe  with  its  contents,  whatever  they  might  have 
been,  when,  in  the  dead  hour  of  the  night,  when  all  the 
world  and  his  wife  were  fast  asleep,  Mr.  Jarvis  was  awakened 
by  heavy  groans,  which  seemed  to  come  from  above,  be 
low,  and  all  around  him.  Trembling  wkh  fear  and  agita- 
tation,  he  called  upon  his  friend  Hill,  in  the  meantime 
taking  his  pistols  from  under  his  pillow,  "  Hill !  Hill  !" 
cried  Jarvis — "  for  the  love  of  heaven,  wake  up,  or  we  shall 
be  murdered  in  our  beds  !" 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  asked  Mr.  H. 

"  Matter  !  matter  enough  !  I  thought  we  should  not 
get  out  of  this  infernal  city  without  being  robbed  or 
murdered." 

Mr.  Hill  scarcely  comprehending  what  was  the  matter, 
nevertheless  got  out  of  bed  ;  the  valiant  artist  did  the 
same,  and  handing  a  Bowie  knife  to  Mr.  Hill,  courageously 
led  the  way  to  the  top  of  the  landing,  with  the  fierce  de 
termination  of  quietly  settling  the  hash  of  the  supposed 
intruder. 

"  Stop  !  stop  !"  said  Mr.  Hill,  "  not  so  fast ;  if  my  ears 
do  not  deceive  me,  the  groans  proceed  from  that  room 
down  stairs,  and  are  the  cries  of  some  person  in  distress." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Jarvis,  "  that's  a  mere  ruse,  and  if 
we  are  not  careful,  we  shall  hr)th  be  murdered." 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  Ill 

"  I  am  so  convinced,"  replied  Mr.  Hill,  "  of  the  reality  of 
my  own  suspicions,  that  I  am  determined  to  go  to  the  room 
and  ascertain  the  truth." 

"  Don't  be  rash,"  urged  Jarvis,  "  they  certainly  will 
have  your  life  if  you  go.  Let  us  shoot  them  down." 

Heedless  of  the  caution,  Mr.  Hill  hurried  down  stairs, 
leaving  his  friend  Jarvis  at  the  head  of  the  steps  shivering 
with  cold  and  fear,  with  nothing  on  but  his  shirt,  and  a 
pair  of  large  pistols  in  his  hands.  Mr.  Hill  soon  reached 
the  chamber  from  whence  the  groans  proceeded.  Sans 
ceremony,  he  opened  the  door  and  went  in,  and  there,  in 
stead  of  encountering  thieves  and  assassins,  he  found  a 
poor  woman  suffering  a  maternal  agony,  without  friends  or 
attendance.  He  returned,  with  the  view  of  sending  Mr. 
Jarvis  for  assistance,  whom  he  found  still  at  his  post,  his 
pistols  pointing  down  the  stairs. 

"  Remove  your  pistols,  Jarvis ;  don't  fire  at  me  ;  I'm 
not  going  to  harm  you." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Jarvis,  "  have  you  found  the  villains  ? 
Where  are  they  ?  J31ow  their  brains  out." 

"  You  are  quite  mistaken,"  said  Mr.  Hill ;  "  it  is  a  poor 
woman  sick  and  in  need  of  immediate  relief.  Go  to  the 
landlady,  and  tell  her  to  prepare  some  nourishment,  and 
hasten  to  the  servants'  room.  Then  you  retire  to  your 
room,  and  I  will  attend  to  the  sufferer  until  she  gets  relief." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  it  was  fortunate  for  the 
poor  woman  that  Mr.  Hill  knew  of  her  distress,  for  it  was 
not  in  his  nature  to  leave  anything  undone  which  could 
contribute  to  her  comfort.  Twelve  months  after  this  event, 
Mr.  Hill  again  visited  New  Orleans.  He  was  walking 
down  the  str,  et  one  day,  arm-in-arm  with  a  gentleman, 


112  YANKEE    HILL. 

when  he  saw  a  decently  dressed  Irishman  and  his  wife 
hastening  towards  him. 

"  Oh  !  sure,  Mr.  Hill,"  said  the  woman,  "  and  it's  mesilf 
that's  glad  to  see  you  ;  and  isn't  this  a  beautiful  child  ?" 

"  Not  a  doubt  about  it,  my  good  woman ;  but  what  have 
I  to  do  with  it  ?" 

Mr.  Hill  had  quite  forgotten  the  circumstance  I  have 
related  above. 

"  Is  it  what  you  have  got  to  do  wid  it  ?"  said  the  wo 
man — •'  sure  it  would  not  have  been  here,  and  the  image 
of  his  father,  if  you  hadn't  had  something  to  do  wid  it." 

Mr.  Hill  began  to  feel  uncomfortable,  for  he  found  his 
friend  giving  him  some  significant  digs  in  the  ribs. 

"  My  dear  woman,"  said  Mr.  II. — "  you  must  take  me 
for  somebody  else." 

"  Divil  a  bit !  D'ye  think  I'd  ever  forget  the  face  of 
you  ?  Can  I  ever  forget  when  you  found  me  alone,  and  got 
nurses  and  doctors  to  wait  upon  me,  when  I  hadn't  a 
friend  in  the  wide  world.  Mistake  you  for  somebody  else  ! 
I'd  nerer  forget  yo  i  till  I  die." 

The  circumstances  of  the  case  were  recalled  to  Mr. 
Hill's  mind,  and  putting  a  linle  present  into  the  child's 
tiny  fist,  wished  the  grateful  couple  farewell.  I  don't 
know  how  he  managed  to  satisfy  his  friend's  mind,  but  this 
I  know,  his  own  was  free  from  anything  but  a  pleasant  re 
collection  of  a  circumstance  which  enabled  him  to  render  a 
kind  service  to  a  fellow-creature  in  distress. 

On  Mr.  Hill's  first  visit  to  New-Orleans,  he  formed  an 

intimacy  with  a  Mr.  S ,  whom  he  found  a  gay-hearted, 

happy,  and  intelligent  companion.  On  his  third  visit  he 
was  grieved  to  find,  that  the  friend  he  had  left  so  buoyant 
and  gay,  was  bowed  down  with  some  inward  sorrow.  Instead 


ANECDOTES    AND   INCIDENTS.  113 

of,  as  formerly,  seeking  the  society  of  Mr.  H.,  he  avoided 
it.  Mr.  Hill  was  distressed  at  this,  for  he  knew  of  no  cir 
cumstance — having  a  sincere  regard  for  his  friend — which 

would  justify  this  distant  coolness  on  the  part  of  Mr.  S . 

He  resolved  to  fathom  the  mystery.  From  some  little 
things  he  had  observed,  he  formed  a  suspicion  of  the  cause 
of  his  friend's  depression,  and  he  made  up  his  mind,  the 
first  moment  he  was  disengaged,  to  inquire  further  into  the 
matter.  On  one  of  his  off  nights,  he  called  at  the  residence 
of  his  friend,  but  he  was  told  by  the  black  boy,  that 
"  Massa  was  not  at  home,  but  that  Missus  was,  and  would 
be  berry  glad  to  see  him."  Mr.  Hill,  without  hesitation, 
followed  the  servant  to  the  drawing-room  ;  he  there  found 

Mrs.  S in  tears.  Mr.  H.,  taking  the  privilege  of  an 

old  friend,  asked  her  the  cause  of  her  sadness. 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Hill,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  very  unhappy ;  I 
have  not  seen  Charles  since  yesterday  morning.  He  now 
frequently  leaves  me  days  together,  and  seems  so  altered, 
that  I  am  almost  heart-broken." 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  "do  not 
despond  ;  it  may  be  nothing  but  a  temporary  estrangement ; 
some  passing  excitement  which  keeps  him  away.  Be  of 
good  heart,  all  will  yet  be  right.  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
discover  the  cause  of  his  avoidance  of  me,  and  now  that  he 
is  estranged  from  you  and  his  home,  I  have  a  double  incen 
tive  to  use  every  exertion  to  reclaim  the  truant." 

With  such  blessings  as  a  young,  affectionate  and  con 
fiding,  but  neglected  wife,  alone  could  call  down  upon  one 
promising  to  restore  all  she  held  dear  in  life,  Mr.  Hill  de 
parted  to  put  his  plans  in  execution. 

In  a  remote  corner  of  the  city  of  New- Orleans,  was 
situated  one  of  those  fashionable  dens  of  vice,  where  men 


114  YANKEE    HILL. 

staked  honor,  virtue,  and  fortune,  on  the  turning  of  a  die  ; 
where  swindlers  were  educated,  and  assassins  learned  their 
trade.  It  was  midnight ;  and  at  the  faro-table  stood  one 
conspicuous  from  the  rest,  whose  face  wore  an  expression 
of  unspeakable  anguish.  His  last  counter  was  in  his  hand, 
and  thoughts  of  home,  of  wife  and  children,  came  crowd 
ing  upon  his  distracted  brain  ;  but  alas !  instead  of  staying 
his  progress,  the  ruin  he  had  brought  upon  his  family,  but 
urged  him  on.  Fortune  might  change,  and  if  once  re 
deemed,  he  would  forswear  for  ever  the  maddening  game. 
Just  as  he  was  putting  down  his  last  stake,  a  stranger  en 
veloped  in  a  large  cloak,  his  face  almost  hidden  with  a  pair 
of  large,  black  whiskers,  and  his  head  covered  with  a  fur 
cap  of  most  uncouth  appearance,  rushed  into  the  room.  He 
looked  more  like  a  demon  than  a  human  being,  and  the  effect 
of  his  appearance  not  only  suspended  the  games,  but 
seemed  to  paralyze  the  players,  for  "conscience  makes 
cowards  of  us  all."  In  the  confusion  which  followed  this 
sudden  intrusion,  of  they  knew  not  whom,  the  lights  were 
put  out.  Mr.  S ,  for  it  was  he  who  stood  so  conspic 
uously  at  the  faro-table,  found  himself  grasped  by  the  arm, 
and  led  forcibly  away.  He  was  too  much  dismayed  by  tho 
suddenness  of  the  whole  affair  to  offer  resistance,  and  he 
went  whither  he  was  led.  When  he  was  in  the  street,  the 
lamp  disclosed  to  him  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
stranger  whose  sudden  appearance  had  produced  so  much 
commotion  in  the  gambling-house.  It  was  but  the  work 
of  a  moment  for  the  stranger  to  take  the  whiskers  from  his 
face,  and  reveal  to  the  astonished  gamester  the  face  of  his 
friend,  Mr.  Hill. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  sternly,  "  I  hope  you  have  had 


ANECDOTES    AND   INCIDENTS.  115 

enough  of  that  infernal  place,  and  will  never  return  to  it 
again." 

Overwhelmed  with  shame  and  confusion,  it  was  some 
time  before  S could  reply. 

"  Oh,  God  !"  said  he  at  length,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  I 
have  lost  every  cent  I  had  in  the  world.  I  never  can  look 
upon  my  wife  again." 

"  You  must  see  your  wife,  and  that  without  delay,  if  you 
wish  me  to  stand  by  you  in  this  hour  of  distress.  But 
come — let  us  hasten  on,  or  we  may  be  overtaken  by  some 
of  your  associates,  and  I  fancy,  from  the  slight  glimpse  I 
had  of  them,  neither  of  us  would  be  very  safe  in  their 
hands.  Before  we  meet  your  wife,  tell  me,  Charles,  what 
you  intend  to  do  ;  will  you,  if  I  refund  the  money,  you  have 
lost  to-night,  promise  on  your  honor,  never  to  set  foot  in  a 
gambling-house  again  ?" 

"  I  will,  George,  my  more  than  brother,"  replied  S , 

overcome  by  the  kindness  which  offered  redemption.  "  I 
will  do  all  that  man  can  do,  not  only  to  recover  your  con 
fidence  but  to  deserve  it." 

"Enough  ;  I  believe  you,"  said  Mr.  Hill.  "Now  I  have 
a  little  explanation  to  make.  A  day  or  two  after  my  arri 
val  in  this  city,  I  was  persuaded  by  a  friend  to  visit  the 
same  hell  which  you  have  just  left.  As  I  went  in,  I  thought 
I  saw  your  figure  retreating  from  the  room.  I  considered 
the  matter  well,  and  the  more  I  thought  of  it,  the  stronger 
became  the  impression  that  it  was  you  whom  I  saw.  This 
gave  me  the  key  to  your  mysterious  avoidance  of  me,  and 
I  determined  to  seek  you  there :  the  result  you  know. 
But  to  return  to  my  own  visit.  You  know  the  arts  they 
employ  to  gain  the  confidence  of  the  unsuspecting,  and 
how  frequently  they  will  permit  the  man  who  is  known  to 


116  YANKEE    HILL. 

have  means,  to  win.  They  tried  this  decoy  upon  me,  and 
when  I  left  the  room  that  evening,  I  was  the  winner  of  three 
hundred  dollars.  I  purposed  to  give  this  amount  to  some 
charitable  institution — it  is  yours,  Charles,  and  as  much 
more  is  at  your  service  as  you  staked  at  '  that  desperate 
game,  last  evening." 

S was  too  much  overcome  to  speak  his  thanks.  He 

had  in  some  measure  conquered  his  emotion  by  the  time  he 
reached  home.  They  found  Mrs.  S sitting  up,  watch 
ing  the  return  of  her  truant  husband.  Mr.  Hill  did  not 

give  time  for  reproaches,  but  pushing  Mr.  S into  the 

arms  of  his  wife,  said,  "  There,  madam,  not  a  word,  there  will 
be  no  more  absence  from  home — all  is  right.  Now,  good 
night — God  bless  you." 

Mr.  S is  now  the  father  of  three  blooming  children, 

and  one  of  the  most  prosperous  merchants  of  New- Orleans. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  117 


A  MEETING  UPON  THE  SUBJECT  OF  THE 
PUBLIC  PRESS. 


I  DO  not  know,  whether  or  not,  the  characters  which 
figure  below,  at  a  meeting  held  for  the  Quixotic  purpose  of 
putting  down  the  Press,  are  the  same  who  recently  met  in 
New-York,  to  devise  means  of  stopping  the  issue  of  Sunday 
papers,  but  if  they  are  not,  they  might  readily  be  mistaken 
for  them,  only  the  error  would  involve  a  degree  of  flattery 
which  I  do  not  think  the  latter  deserve.  Mr.  Hill  attended 
the  meeting,  of  which  the  following  is  his  faithful  report. 
Mr.  Obadiah  Sleek,  who  presided  on  this  occasion,  said  : 

"  Brethren,  we  have  met  here  for  the  purpose  of  sup 
pressing  the  Press.  There  are  many  articles  in  the  daily 
newspaper  very  injurious  to  the  morals  of  the  rising  gene 
ration,  particularly  the  young,  and  being  impressed  with 
that  impression,  I  wish  to  express  myself  to  you,  and  have 
it  impressed  on  your  minds  in  the  most  pressing  manner." 

The  Chairman  having  delivered  himself  of  this  impressive 
speech,  sat  down.  Brother  Longjaw  now  addressed  the 
meeting : 

"  I  have  heard  the  very  eloquent  and  lengthy  remarks 
of  Mr.  Sleek,  and  I  must  say  I  entirely  coincide  with  his 
views,  There  are  a  great  number  of  persons  in  the  west 
erly  diggins  of  our  town,  who  coincide  with  him  tew,  and 


118  YANKEE   HILL. 

they  told  me  to  tell  you  that  they  entirely  coincided  with 
you  in  your  views,  let  them  be  what  they  might." 

Oziah  Slimbrain,  he  spoke : 

"  Mr.  Cheerman,  I  don't  think  as  how  I  ought  to  say 
anything,  'cause  I've  got  nothing  to  say ;  but  if  all  men 
who  spoke  at  public  meetings,  didn't  speak  till  they  had 
something  to  say,  speakers  would  be  rather  scarce.  I  goes 
in  agin  papers  :  what  is  the  good  of  'em  to  a  man  as  can't 
read  ?  I  took  hold  of  one  once,  but  I  got  it  wrong  eend 
up.  In  my  young  days  laming  was  dear,  and  I  didn't  go 
to  school  but  one  day  in  my  life,  and  that  was  in  the 
evening,  and  the  master  was  not  there,  all  of  which  con 
vinces  me  papers  should  be  put  down.  Our  folks  at  hum 
would  have  all  come  to  this  meeting,  but  they've  been  busy 
making  cherry  rum,  and  they  throwed  the  cherries  out  be 
hind  the  barn,  and  Jedide  and  the  hogs  have  been  eating 
them,  and  we've  got  the  darn'dest  lot  of  corned  pork  you 
ever  did  see.  Jedide  said  it  wasn't  eating  the  cherries,  but 
swallowing  the  stones,  that  corned  the  hogs.  Aunt  Jerusha 
was  a  coming  to  this  meeting,  but  she's  got  the  measles, 
and  she  was  afraid  of  making  a  breaking  out  in  the  meet 
ing,  but  I  made  made  up  my  mind  I'd  come  myself,  so  I 
hitched  the  old  mare  up  to  the  waggon,  but  she  came 
along  so  tarnal  slow,  that  I  licked  her,  and  then  she  slewed 
the  old  waggon  right  up  agin  the  fence  all  to  smash.  I 
tied  the  tarnal  old  critter  up  with  her  blind  eye  to  the  road, 
so  that  she'll  think  she's  bang  up  agin  the  fence,  and  stay 
there  just  as  quiet.  I  don't  care  now,  however,  for  I  have 
got  here  a  darned  sight  quicker  than  I  should  if  I'd  driv 
her.  Now  I've  got  here,  I  don't  know  what  to  say  agin 
the  papers,  more  than  I  think  they  should  be  put  down.  I 
see  you  are  a  putting  down  names  ;  you  may  put  down  all 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  119 

our  family — Jedide,  Jeruse,  and  the  hogs,  if  you  like — I 
don't  care  a  darn*'' 

Mr.  Slam  next  rose  to  address  the  meeting.  It  is  impos 
sible  to  repeat  the  substance  of  this  gentleman's  remarks. 
He  appeared  to  have  got  up  in  a  passion.  Every  word  he 
uttered  was  followed  by  a  savage  blow  upon  the  table,  and 
when  he  got  very  much  excited,  he  would  strike  it  a  dozen 
times,  speaking  all  the  while,  but  the  noise  he  made  com 
pletely  drowned  his  words.  The  following  is  as  near  a 
report  as  we  can  make  in  writing : 

"Mr.  Chairman,  (bang!)  I  presume  (bang!  bang!) — 
yes,  sir,  I  repeat  it — (bang  !  bang  !)  sir,  (bang  !)  certainly 
they  should  be  put  down — (bang!  bang!  bang!)  that  is 
what — (bang  !)  with  these  few  remarks,  I  submit — (bang !) 
my  resolution." 

John  Holdtight  spoke  next — 

Mr.  Ch — Ch — Chairman,  I — I — I —  el — abor  under  s — 
s — su — such  di — di — di — difficulties  in  sp — sp — speaking, 
that  I — I  bul — bul — bul — ieve  I  sh — sh — shall  say  noth 
— noth— nothing  about  it." 

A  stranger  got  up — 

"  Mr.  Chairman  :  John  Hopper  told  me  to  say  to  you 
that  he  was  very  sorry  he  could  not  attend  this  meeting. 
John  Hopper's  horse  not  being  shod,  he  could  not  attend 
this  meeting.  If  it  had  been  shod,  John  Hopper  would 
have  attended  this  meeting  ;  but  by  reason  of  John  Hop 
per's  horse  not  being  shod,  he  could  not  come.  The  man 
who  shods  John  Hopper's  horse  being  out  on  a  drunken 
frolic,  he  could  not  get  his  horse  shod,  and  consequently 
John  Hopper's  horse  not  being  shod,  he  could  not  attend 
this  meeting." 


120  YANKEE    HILL. 

An  effeminate  voice  from  the  back  part  of  the  meeting 
was  then  heard — 

"  Mr.  Chairman :  I  don't  feel  altogether  clean-handed.  I 
have  been  a  good  deal  lately  in  the  habit  of  reading  the 
papers,  and  I  say,  I  don't  feel  altogether  clean-handed.  I 
have  been  in  the  habit  of  reading  the  weeklies,  being  more 
appropriate  to  a  man  like  me  of  a  weakly  constitution.  I 
have  known  some  articles  appearing  therein,  which  ought 
to  have  been  thrown  out,  and  I  don't  feel  altogether  clean 
handed." 

The  Chairman  now  spoke  : 

"I  find  my  brethren,  that  my  views  have  been  com 
pletely  carried  out,  and  when  I  have  stated  what  I  am 
about  to  state,  that  I  should  mention  that  I  mean  to  state 
this  meeting  is  adjourned." 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  121 


COUSIN   GUSS. 


"  WHLL,  how  de  dew  ?  I'm  right  glad  to  see  you,  I  swow. 
I  rather  guess  I  can  say  suthin'  about  the  Revolution  busi 
ness,  purty  good  yarsion,  tew,  by  jingo.  My  father,  old 
Josh  Addams,  had  his  fist  in  it :  any  on  you  know  him  ? 
Old  Josh  Addams,  as  well  known  as  the  Schuylkill  water 
works.  He  was  born  in  Boston :  he  didn't  die  there, 
'cause  he  died  in  Philadelphia.  He  used  to  wear  an  old 
genuine  '76  coat,  little  cut  down  to  suit  the  fashion,  made 
it  a  razee.  One  might  have  known  the  old  man  a  mile  off. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  Cousin  Guss,  he'd  have  been  livin  to 
this  ere  day.  You  may  see  Guss  in  Chestnut  street, — any 
of  you  know  him  ? — dressed  like  a  peacock,  and  got  whis 
kers  big  enough  to  stuff  a  sofa  bottom.  He  went  down 
t'other  day,  to  see  the  wild  beasts  in  5th  street ;  jest  as  he 
was  comin'  away,  he  met  a  hull  squad  of  little  children  a 
comin'  in:  when  they  saw  Cousin  Guss,  if  they  didn't 
squeal  like  ten  thousand  devils.  The  old  man  says,  what's 
the  matter,  young  ones  ?  Oh  dear,  papa,  see,  they've  let 
one  of  the  monkeys  loose.  Cousin  Guss  didn't  show  his 
face  in  Chestnut  street  for  a  week.  Guss  telled  the  old 
man  he  must  have  his  coat  cut  again,  and  altered  to  the 
fashion ;  so  he  coaxed  old  Josh  to  let  him  take  it  down  to 

his ,  as  he  called  him,  down  in  3d  street.     Well, 

the  good-natured  old   critter  said  he  might :  when  he  yot 
0 


122  YANKEE    HILL. 

it  back,  sich  a  lookin'  thing  as  it  was,  you  might  have 
fallen  down  and  worshipped  it,  without  breaking  the  ten 
commandments.  When  we  saw  it,  we  all  larfed ;  sister 
Jedide,  she  snickered  right  out.  The  old  man  looked  at  it 
for  about  a  minute,  didn't  say  a  word,  by  jingo, — the  tears 
rolled  out  of  his  eyes  as  big  as  hail-stones.  He  jest  folded 
it  up,  put  it  under  his  pillow,  laid  himself  down  on  the 
bed,  and  never  got  up  again  :  it  broke  his  heart :  he  died 
from  a  curtailed  coat. 

"  The  old  man  used  to  tell  sich  stories  about  the  Revo 
lution.  I  rather  guess  he  could  say  a  leetle  more  about 
that  affair  than  most  folks.  'Bout  six  years  ago  he  went 
to  Boston,  when  La  Fayette  was  there ;  they  gave  a  great 
dinner  at  Fanueil  Hall.  When  the  Mayor  heard  Old  Josh 
Addams  was  in  Boston,  he  sent  him  a  regular  built  invita 
tion.  The  old  man  went,  and. wore  the  '76  coat, — that  is, 
before  it  was  cut  down,  though.  By-and-bye  they  called 
upon  the  old  man  for  a  toast.  Up  he  got,  and  says  he, 
*  Here's  to  the  Heroes  of  the  Revolution,  who  fought,  bled, 
and  died,  for  their  country,  of  which  I  was  one.'  When 
old  Josh  said  that,  they  all  snickered  right  out. 

"  There's  one  story  the  old  man  used  to  tell  about  Bos 
ton,  that  was  a  real  snorter :  he  always  used  to  laugh 
afore  he  begun.  He  said,  down  on  Long  Wharf  there  was 
a  queer  little  feller, — a  cousin  of  his  by  the  mother's  side, 
— called  Zedekiah  Hales,  who  wasn't  more  than  four  foot 
high,  and  had  a  hump  jest  between  his  shoulders.  A  hull 
squad  of  British  officers  got  round  Zedekiah,  in  State 
street,  and  were  laughing  and  poking  all  sorts  of  fun  at 
him :  he  bore  it,  cause  as  how  he  couldn't  help  it ;  one  of 
them,  a  regular  built  dandy  captain,  lifting  up  his  glass, 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS. 


said  to  him,  *  You  horrid   little  deformed  critter,  what' 
that   lump   you've    got   on   your   shoulder?'      Zedekiah 
turned  round  and  looked  at  him  for  about  a  minute,  and 
says  he,  '  it's  Bunker  Hill,  you  tarnal  fool,  you/  " 


J24  YANKEE    HILL. 


TWO  BIRDS  KILLED  WITH  ONE  STONE. 


Mr.  HILL,  on  one  of  the  occasions  of  his  benefit,  sent 
persons  to  every  part  of  the  City  of  Boston,  to  get  all  the 

cripples  they  could  find,  to  call  at  the  office  of  Dr. , 

— a  young  physician,  at  that  time,  having  but  a  limited 
practice, — where  they  would  receive  aid  and  advice  gratis. 
The  doctor  was  not  aware  of  what  was  going  on,  but  he 
was  very  much  astonished  at  the  sudden  increase  of  his 
practice :  his  office  was  besieged  with  the  halt,  the  lame, 
and  the  blind.  The  doctor  turned  none  away,  and  in  a 
great  many  of  the  cases,  had  the  satisfaction  of  doing  a 
great  deal  of  good.  Public  notice  was  shortly  attracted 
to  the  office  of  this  physician,  and  he  soon  enjoyed  a  large 
and  lucrative  practice.  Many  of  the  patients  acted  for 
Mr.  Hill's  benefit,  representing  the  army  of  Bombastes, 
and  such  an  army  of  real  deformities  was  certainly  never 
seen  on  any  stage  before. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  125 


THE  TWO  FAT  SALS. 


IF  every  man  were  to  relate  the  little  romances  of  love 
in  which  he  becomes  involved,  at  some  time  or  other  of  his 
life,  novelists  and  farce-writers  would  be  supplied  with 
plots  and  incidents  enough  to  supply  publishers  and  man 
agers  with  a  continual  run  of  novelties  for  all  times.  In 
the  story  of  the  "  Two  fat  Sals,"  which  Mr.  Hill  used  to 
relate  with  such  inimitable  humor,  is  recorded  the  experi 
ence  of  one  man  only,  but  it  affords  a  very  useful  lesson  on 
the  evils  of  a  mind  divided  in  the  matter  of  love,  and 
another  illustrious  example  of  the  truth  of  the  aphorism, 
that  "  the  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth." 

"  There  was  two  Sals  livin'  in  our  town,  Sal  Stebbins 
and  Sal  Babit, — real  corn-fed  gals,  I  swow.  Sal  Stebbins 
would  lift  a  barrel  of  cider  out  of  the  eend  of  a  cart  as 
quick  as  any  other  feller,  and  drink  it  tew.  Sal  Babit,  she 
was  so  fat,  she'd  roll  one  way  jest  as  easy  as  t'other,  and 
if  anything,  a  little  easier.  Well,  there  was  a  corn-husk 
ing,  and  I  went  along  with  Sal  Stebbins :  there  was  all 
the  gals  and  boys  settin'  reound,  and  I  got  sot  down  so 
near  Sal  Babit,  that  I'll  be  darned  if  I  didn't  kiss  her  afore 
I  know'd  what  I  was  abeout.  Sal  Stebbins,  she  blushed : 
the  blood  rushed  right  up  into  her  hair :  she  was  the  best 
red  critter  I  ever  did  see.  I  thought  it  was  all  up  with 
me,  and  sure  enough  it  was,  for  when  I  asked  her  if  she 


YANKEE    HILL. 

would  go  hum  with  me,  she  said  '  no ;  you  needn't  trouble 
yourself  nothin'  'tall  'beout  it.'  '  Well,  if  you're  mind  to 
get  spunky,  I  guess  I  can  git  a  gal  that  will  let  me  see 
her  hum.  Sal  Babit,  shall  I  go  hum  with  you  ?'  '  Well/ 
says  she,  'I  don't  mind  if  you  dew.'  Arter  that,  Sal 
Stebbins  married  a  feller  in  our  town,  by  the  name  of 
Post, — blind  in  one  eye,  and  deaf  in  one  ear, — jest  to 
spite  me,  nothin'  else  :  so  I  thought  if  she  was  a  mind  to 
take  a  feller  that  couldn't  see  or  hear  any  tew  well,  I'd 
better  let  her  slide :  so  I  went  away  from  hum,  and  was 
gone  about  three — four — five  years  ? — yes,  jest  about  five 
years,  'cause  I  know  when  I  got  back  she  had  four  little 
Posts.  I  went  to  see  how  she  got  along.  She  asked  me 
to  come  in  and  set  down  ;  so  I  tuck  a  cheer  and  squatted  : 
then  she  tuck  another  cheer  and  squatted ;  and  we  both 
squatted  there  together.  Her  young  ones  was  all  runnin' 
reound  on  the  floor :  she  pinted  to  them,  and  said,  in  a 
sort  of  bragging  way,  '  You  see  them,  don't  you  ?'  '  Yes,' 
says  I,  squintin'  up  one  eye,  '  I  see,  they're  all  jest  like 
their  daddy,  blind  in  one  eye.'  She  was  bilin'  dumplings 
at  the  time,  and  as  soon  as  she  see  me  shut  up  one  eye, 
she  out  with  a  hot  dumplin',  and  let  me  have  it  in  t'other, 
which  made  me  shut  it  up  a  darn'd  sight  quicker  than  I 
ever  did  afore,  and  I  haint  been  in  love  since  that  time." 


ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS.  127 


A  LEARNED  SOCIETY. 


NEW  ENGLAND  is  studded  with  learned  societies.  The 
people  of  the  Eastern  States  seem  to  be  as  curious  in 
matters  of  science  as  they  are  in  prying  into  each  other's 
affairs.  Boston  alone,  every  year,  brings  out  more  new 
isms  and  ologies,  than  all  the  other  cities  in  the  Union  put 
together.  I  most  sincerely  believe,  that  if  some  vast  sci 
entific  discovery  were  to  be  made  to-day  among  some 
newly  found  people,  whose  language  was  different  from 
anything  ever  thought  of  or  conceived  before,  that  in  a 
week,  some  Yankee  or  other  would  advertise  a  lecture 
upon  the  subject,  and  maybe  deliver  it  in  the  new  tongue. 
The  following  report  of  a  Learned  Society,  Mr.  Hill  at 
tended  in  Clamtown,  I  give  as  he  used  to  relate  it. 


YANKEE  CABALA. 

"  Old  Samuel  Winston,  Esq.,  a  member  of  our  Histori 
cal  Society  in  Clamtown,  was  considered  a  'notionate 
critter,'  and  one  of  his  notions  was  Cabala.  He  consider 
ed  himself  learned  upon  the  subject.  There  were  belong 
ing  to  the  same  society,  a  number  of  the  sons  of  one 
Jacob  Bigelow.  Said  Jacob,  had  twelve  children,  and 
these  young  ones  were  continually  plaguing  old  Sammy  to 


128  YANKEE    HILL. 

give  a  lecture  before  the  society,  on  Cabalistic  Science,  or 
show  them  what  it  was  like.  He  at  length  consented,  and 
here  is  a  copy  of  the  result  of  his  labor.  This  diagram 
was  unrolled  before  the  society,  and  the  Bigelows  in  par 
ticular. — 

"Cabalistic  Science  is  a  cute  arrangement  of  picters, 
figures  and  letters,  so  as  tew  mean  suthin'  and  here  is  an 
example  of  how  sich  arrangements  due  read.  (Points 
to  1.) 

"  In  course  nobody  kin  take  offence  at  what  kin  be  made 
eout  of  figures  and  letters,  for  you  kin  jist  make  eout  on 
'em  what  you've  a  mind  tew.  None  ony  ou  see  offence  in 
this  ?  (Diagram.) 

All  answered  "  No,"  and  the  Bigelows  louder  than  the 
rest. 

"  Well  then,  put  in  your  mind  that  this  is  the  key  tew 
the  hull  science,  and  you  kin  here  trace  it.  (Counts  Dia 
gram,  One.) 

A  member  interrupted  him  with — 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  a  large  door  key,  Squire 
Winston,  it  might  be  better  to  pint  the  subject  eout." 

WINSTON, — "  You  better  be  quiet.  I  b'lieve  you  don't 
know  Cabala,  I  b'lieve." 

ANOTHER  MEMBER. — "  Squire,  is  Cabala  any  derivation 
from  gabble,  tew  keep  up  a  talkin'  ?" 

WINSTON. — "  You  are  a  fool  too,  you  are,  I  b'lieve. 
Shut  up  your  talkin'." 

2d  MEMBER. — "  Well,  dew  go  on  with  that  key.  Pa 
tience,  m-a-s-sy,  you  will  be  so  long,  and  so  tigious,  that  I 
shouldn't  be  a  mite  surprised,  if  your  key  got  me  locked 
eout  tew  home." 

WINSTON.—"  The  key  !   that  is  this  key." 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS.          129 

3d  MEMBER. — "  Well,  dew  strike  that  key,  will  you  ? 
you'll  never  git  through  it.  I  never  did  see  anything  like 
the  prosy  ness  of  that  critter ;  dew  go  on." 

WINSTON. — "  I'll  thank  you,  Mr.  President,  to  keep  this 
society  a  little  quieter  ;  it  is  gittin  tew  be  a  parfect  bedlam 
of  ignorance,  I  b'lieve." 

3d  MEMBER. — "  Dew  you  mean  to  say,  that  you  are 
the  key  stun  of  the  whole  society  yourself." 

WiNSTOsr. — (Picking  up  a  specimen.)  "  I  mean  that  I 
will  throw  a  stun  at  your  head,  if  you  don't  lock  up  your 
tongue." 

He  proceeds, — 

'*  Take  this  key,  (points  to  key,)  and  place  it  on  this,  and 
you  kin  spell  eout  Jacob  Bigelow.  Now  read  down  this 
list,  (points  to  names,)  and  you  have  the  names  of  his 
sons — critters,  at  whose  persuasion  I  have  gin  this  lecture. 
Here  you  have  a  picter,  or  set  of  picters,  which  in  course 
mean  suthin',  and  thus  they  read.  (Names  the  pictures.) 

"  Well,  put  this  key  on  them  picters,  and  you  can  spell 
by  the  first  letters  with  this  key,  Jacob  Bigelow,  agin, — old 
Jacob's  most  sensible  expressions  on  any  occasion,  was 
' git  eout'  or  '  dew  tell,'  and  by  applying  the  key,  here  you 
have  'em.  Examine  the  same  letters  which  say  this,  and 
you  see  they  are  the  initial  letters  of  the  whole  family. 
These  picters  not  only  spell  the  old  man's  name,  but  they 
exhibit  the  propensities  of  his  children.  (Names  in  Dia 
gram  6.) 

"  The  Bigelow  family  wanted  tew  larn  Cabalistic  science ; 
here  is  a  specimen,  heow  do  they  like  it  ?" 

This  is  what  old  Mr.  Winston  termed  a   Yan-Jcey  way  of 
shutting  the  hull  Bigelow  family  up.     Here  was  a  row  in 
which  all  joined.     The  mystic  Cabala  had  been  deciphered, 
6* 


130  YANKEE    HILL. 

and  the  Bigelows  struck  into  a  high  key.  Winston,  was 
standing  with  his  divining  rod  in  his  hand  on  a  bench,  and 
every  now  and  then,  you  could  hear  him  shout  in  a  roaring 
key- 

WINSTON. — "  It  is  a  correct  key,  and  you  may  like  it  or 
not,Ib'lieve." 

The  Landlady  who  owned  the  house,  lived  in  one  end, 
and  rented  the  apartments  to  the  Society,  with  key  in 
hand,  visited  the  room,  when  she  broke  into  a  shrill  key — 
(She  had  rented  the  house  to  catch  a  beau  from  the 
Society.) 

LANDLADY. — "  Oh,  gracious  !  dew  you  mean  tew  ruin  a 
widow,  jist  in  her  prime,  who  only  owns  this  house,  and  six 
others  in  the  town  jist  like  it,  and  has  a  new  set  of  china  and 
furnitur,  and  no  incumbrances ;  I  say,  dew  this  Society  of 
gentlemen,  among  whom  I  see  a  few  widder  acquaintances, 
and  some  bachelors,  young  and  old,  who  ought  to  have 
been  settled  down  in  life  long  ago;  dew  you,  by  the  com 
bined  power  of  your  healthy  voices,  by  shoutin'  in  this 
eoutrageous  key  of  voice,  both  young  and  old  on  you,  mar 
ried  and  unmarried,  not  forgettin*  the  widowers,  I  say, 
dew  you  all  want  tew,  in  this  manner,  break  the  peace  and 
quietness  of  a  poor  widow,  by  breakin'  on  her  up.  Ef  you 
don't  all  jist  clear  out,  I'll  lock  every  one  on  you  in  the 
house  till  mornin'." 

The  Landlady  shook  her  key  at  the  Society,  and  there 
was  a  Yan-Jcey  meaning  in  it,  which  broke  up  the  histori 
cal  Cabal,  who,  on  this  occasion  had  become  so  Cabalistic. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  131 


AN  ADVENTURE  ON  HORSEBACK. 


ON  one  of  Mr.  Hill's  visits  to  New  Orleans,  he  rode  out 
on  horseback  with  a  friend  of  his,  and,  as  they  were  pass 
ing  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  his  companion  said, 

"  Hill,  I  dare  you  to  ride  up  those  steps  ;" — meaning 
those  which  led  to  the  large  reading-room  attached  to  that 
magnificent  Hotel. 

"  You  dare  me,  do  you  ?"  said  Mr.  Hill. 

"  Yes ;  but  if  you  will  do  it,  I  will  forfeit  this  fifty 
dollars." 

"  I  don't  want  your  money,  but  here  goes." 

He  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  quick  as  a  flash  was  up 
the  steps  and  into  the  reading-room.  It  was  filled  with 
gentlemen  engaged  in  a  quiet  perusal  of  the  papers,  but 
such  scampering  and  confusion  which  followed  the  appear 
ance  of  the  gentleman  on  horseback,  can  be  better  imagined 
than  described.  They  scattered  in  all  directions,  while 
the  rider,  nothing  daunted,  walked  his  horse  leisurely  round 
the  room,  making  a  sort  of  genteel  waltz  among  the  chairs 
and  tables,  When  they  found  who  it  was  that  had  thus 
intruded  his  horsemanship  upon  their  especial  notice,  they 
all  enjoyed  the  joke,  with  the  exception  of  one  old  gentle 
man,  who  went  to  the  bar  and  demanded  his  bill,  declaring 
he  would  not  remain  a  moment  in  a  house  where  such 


132  YANKEE    HILL. 

doings  were  allowed.  Mr.  Hill  frequently  met  the  irrate 
old  gentleman  in  the  street,  but  he  always  gave  Mr.  H.  a 
wide  berth.  He  seemed  fearful  that  if  he  went  too  near 
Mr.  Hill,  a  horse  would  spring  up  under  the  legs  of  the 
latter  gentleman,  and  trample  him  to  death.  This  was, 
I  believe,  the  first  and  only  time  Mr.  H.  performed  on 
horseback. 


ANECDOTES    AND   INCIDENTS.  133 


A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  CITY. 


AFTER  his  return  from  the  West,  he  appeared  in  Boston, 
and  immediately  afterward  in  Philadelphia.  During  his 
sojourn  in  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love,  he  met  Mr.  G.,  an 
old  associate  and  confidant  of  his,  who  was  about  to  be 
married.  Mr.  G.,  on  meeting  his  friend  Hill,  expressed  an 
anxious  desire  that  he  should  go  with  him  to  the  house  of 
his  intended,  and  see  the  lady  to  whom  he  was  about  to 
submit  his  happiness  and  fortune.  Mr.  Hill,  of  course, 
readily  consented,  for  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  refuse  the 
performance  of  an  act  which  would  even  oblige  a  stranger, 
still  less  an  old  and  much  esteemed  friend.  Mr.  G.  was 
anxious  to  have  Mr.  Hill's  opinion  of  the  lady  of  his  choice, 
little  doubting,  perhaps,  but  that  it  would 'be  a  flattering 
confirmation  of  his  own  judgment.  In  this,  however,  he 
was  mistaken.  Mr.  Hill  did  not  see  the  lady,  as  did  his 
friend,  with  the  eyes  of  love,  and  he  saw  in  the  gay,  affect 
ed,  and  coquettish  manner  of  Miss  R.,  a  frivolity  of  mind 
and  gaiety  of  disposition  which  would  be  the  rock  upon 
which  the  happiness  of  his  friend  would  surely  be  wrecked. 
Mr.  Hill  would  gladly  have  avoided  the  giving  an  opinion 
upon  the  subject,  for  he  knew  full  well  the  little  weight  an 
adverse  judgment  has  with  a  man  in  love ;  but  his  friend 
was  not  to  be  driven  from  his  purpose,  and  insisted  upon 


134  YANKEE    HILL. 

Mr.  Hill  giving  a  truthful  account  of  the  impression  on  his 
mind  in  relation  to  the  lady.  Thus  urged,  Mr.  Hill  re 
marked  : 

"My  dear  fellow,  your  intended  is  pretty,  sings  well, 
and  has  a  graceful  manner,  but  she  is  vain,  and  too  fond  of 
admiration  to  rest  satisfied  with  the  regard  of  you  alone." 

"  But  I  think  she  loves  me  sincerely  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  perhaps  as  well  as  she  is  capable  of  loving ;  but 
I  could  not  help  thinking, — for  I  watched  her  closely  all 
the  evening, — that  you  have  touched  her  vanity  and  not 
her  heart.  You  occupy  a  fine  position  in  society,  possess 
ing  both  wealth  and  reputation,  and  if  I  do  her  not  great 
injustice,  she  looks  upon  you  rather  as  the  means  of  her 
enjoyment,  than  the  source  of  her  happiness.  You  insist 
upon  my  opinion,  and  I  give  it  without  any  scruples  of 
delicacy.  She  appears  to  me  utterly  destitute  of  those 
solid  qualities  calculated  to  make  your  fireside  happy ;  and 
I  would  beg  you,  if  you  can  with  honor,  to  withdraw  from 
your  engagement,  for  I  can  see  nothing  in  its  fulfilment 
but  disappointment  and  misery." 

As  my  readers  have,  probably,  already  anticipated,  the 
advice,  though  sought,  was  not  taken,  and  in  a  very  short 
time  after  this  conversation  his  friend  was  married.  Mr. 
Hill  went  to  England  soon  after  this,  and  did  not  see  Mr. 
G.  again,  until  the  year  1840.  Twenty  years  seemed  to 
have  laid  their  burden  of  cares  upon  him.  He  was  no 
longer  the  pleasant  and  jovial  companion  Mr.  Hill  had 
known  him,  but  a  care-worn,  heart-broken  man.  His  wife, 
on  the  contrary,  appeared  gayer  than  ever.  Home  had  no 
attractions  for  her,  and  the  society  of  her  husband  was 
the  last  she  sought.  Mr.  Hill's  worst  anticipations  had 
been  more  than  realized.  A  separation  eventually  took 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  135 

place:  Mr.  G.  went  to  Europe,  and  his  wretched  wife 
abandoned  herself  to  a  life  of  profligacy  and  shame.  I 
may  as  well  relate,  here,  the  sequel  of  this  story,  although 
the  scene  took  place  years  afterwards. 

In  the  year  1846,  Mr.  Hill  resided  in  Fourth  street,  near 
Union  Square,  New  York.  Whilst  residing  here,  he  prac 
tised  as  a  dentist,  and  as  all  who  follow  this  profession 
assume  the  title  of  Doctor,  he  was  not  unfrequently  called 
upon  to  officiate  in  that  capacity.  He  was  awakened  from 
his  sleep,  one  night,  by  a  loud  ringing  of  the  bell.  He  got 
up,  put  on  his  wrapper,  and  went  to  the  door. 

"  Oh,  docther,  dear,  won't  you  come  and  see  a  poor  sick 
creatu/e  who  is  dangerous,  and  is  lying  in  a  room,  forenenst 
the  one  my  wife  and  children  live  in." 

"  My  friend,  there  is  a  doctor  lives  next  door ;  call  upon 
him,  and  I've  no  doubt  he  will  readily  go  with  you." 

"  I've  done  that  same,  and  he  is  not  at  home.  Oh,  what 
will  I  do ;  and  there's  no  other  docther  near." 

"  Oh,  if  that's  the  case,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  "  and  I  can  be 
of  any  use,  I'll  go  with  you." 

"  Long  life  to  you  for  that  same." 

Mr.  Hill  accompanied  the  man  to  a  wretched  tenement, 
above  Fourteenth  street.  He  went  into  the  room  of  the 
sick  woman,  and  who  should  he  recognize  in  the  miserable 
object  before  him,  but  the  once  gay  and  fashionable  Mrs. 
G.,  the  wife  of  his  old  friend.  Feeble  as  she  was,  after  a 
while  she  recognized  Mr.  Hill,  and  oh,  what  words  of  bitter 
anguish  and  repentance  escaped  her  parched  lips.  Now, 
when  sickness  and  poverty  had  worn  off  the  gilding  which 
pleasure  employs  to  hide  its  unsubstantial  nature,  the  affec 
tions  she  had  lost,  the  home  she  had  made  desolate,  the  love 
she  had  deceived,  the  hopes  she  had  betrayed,  came  crowding 


136  YANKEE    HILL. 

upon  her  heart  and  mind  to  add  the  poignancy  of  their  bit 
ter  thoughts  to  the  agony  of  a  bodily  dissolution.  Mr.  Hill 
did  and  said  all  that  he  could  to  soothe  and  comfort  her, 
but  who  can  administer  to  a  mind  diseased  ?  Only  he  who 
could  recall  to  the  dying  wretch  the  golden  opportunities 
she  had  lost ;  who  could  bring  back  youth  and  health, — 
and  no  such  patient  spirit  dwells  on  earth.  The  pillow 
may  be  smoothed,  the  sharp  pain  blunted,  the  fever  which 
burns  may  be  relieved ;  but  the  mind  diseased,  the  heart 
betrayed,  must  look  to  higher  than  human  power.  To 
this  Mr.  Hill  directed  the  feelings  of  the  dying  woman, 
and  he  had  the  consolation  of  knowing,  that,  before  she 
died,  which  was  in  a  few  days  after  this  interview,  she 
became  sober  and  resigned 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  137 


MISPLACED  AFFECTION. 


AT  lovers'  vows  they  say  Jove  laughs,  but,  by  Jove,  they 
ought  sometimes  to  make  him  weep,  if  he  were  a  respect 
able  and  gentlemanly  man,  as  he  ought  to  be,  from  age 
and  position.  If  he  could  but  take  his  place  in  some  of  our 
modern  courts  of  justice,  and  listen  to  the  details  of  lovers' 
perjuries,  as  displayed  in  crim.  con.  suits,  now  and  then,  or 
in  the  more  romantic  cases  of  "  Breaches  of  Promise,"  I 
fancy  the  "  Ancient"  would  laugh  on  the  other  side  of 
his  mouth. 

The  following  story  of  misplaced  affection,  also,  has  its 
suggestions  of  sorrow  and  regret,  at  which  it  would  be  very 
naughty  in  Jove  even  to  smile,  much  less  laugh. 

"  Mr.  D ,  a  merchant  of  the  city  of  New  York,  was 

associated  also  with  a  mercantile  house  in  Boston,  the 
business  transactions  of  which  frequently  required  his  pre 
sence  in  the  latter  city.  He  was  accustomed  to  spend  his 
evenings  on  such  occasions,  at  the  residence  of  his  partner. 

On  one  of  these  visits,  he  met  Miss  S ,  an  extremely 

pretty  and  interesting,  but,  as  the  sequel  will  show,  a  very 
weak  girl.  Mr.  D was  a  man  of  intelligence,  agree 
able  in  manners,  and  of  prepossessing  appearance.  He 
could  talk  fluently  and  intelligibly  of  the  ordinary  and  ex 
traordinary  topics  of  the  day,  and  had  sufficient  tact  not  to 


138  YANKEE    HILL. 

venture  upon  subjects  which  required  more  thought  than 
a  man  constantly  busied  with  cottons  and  calicoes  can  give 
to  anything  which  does  not  appear  beside  the  money  ar 
ticle  or  price-current  of  a  daily  paper.  He  husbanded  his 
stock  of  knowledge  very  adroitly,  and  placing  his  best 
goods  in  the  shop  window  of  his  mind,  managed  to  attract 

the  attention  of  such  superficial  folks  as  Miss  S .     She 

conceived  for  Mr.  D a  romantic  attachment,  which  she 

had  not  the  strength  of  mind  or  principle  to  resist,  or  even 
the  cunning  to  conceal.  In  a  moment  of  thoughtless  en 
thusiasm,  she  confessed  to  him  how  dear  he  had  become 
to  her,  and  how  impossible  it  was  for  her  to  live  without 
him.  He,  instead  of  being  startled  with  the  confession  of 
a  guilty  love  like  this,  and  checking,  at  once,  a  passion 
which  could  not  but  result  in  certain  misery  to  all  con 
cerned,  allowed  his  vanity  to  get  the  mastery  of  his  judg 
ment,  yielded  to  the  unholy  influence  which  was  fast 
spreading  around  him.  He  was  a  married  man,  and,  ex 
cepting  this  circumstance,  loved  his  wife  devotedly.  Like 
many  others,  feeling  his  heart  secure,  he  imagined  he 
could  throw  aside  the  parasitic  feeling  which  but  clung,  as 
he  thought,  only  upon  the  outside  of  his  affections,  when 
ever  he  thought  proper.  Dangerous  infatuation!  fatal 
error !  The  ivy  clings  not  more  tenaciously  to  the  oak, 
than  do  the  spreading  tendrils,  which  shoot  from  a  cor 
rupted  heart  around  the  principles  of  those  who  carelessly 

encourage  their  creeping  insidiousness.      Mr.  D ,  by 

not  at  once  quenching  the  guilty  flame  which  was  burning 

in  the  bosom  of  Miss  S ,  committed  a  grievous  fault, 

which,  but  for  the  interposition  of  a  friend  in  time,  might 
have  rendered  his  own  fireside  a  domestic  ruin,  and 


ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS.  139 

brought  the  gray  hairs  of  an  aged  parent  with  sorrow  to 
the  grave. 

Mr.  Hill,  who  was  acquainted  with  all  the  parties,  was 
playing  an  engagement  in  Boston,  when  the  mother  of 
Miss  S came  to  him,  and  begged  his  advice  and  assist 
ance.  She  informed  him,  that  her  erring  daughter  had 

left  her  home  and  followed  Mr.  D to  New  York, 

and  begged  him,  as  he  was  about  to  leave  for  that  city,  to 
use  his  influence  in  urging  her  truant  child  to  return.  Mr. 
Hill  readily  promised  to  exert  himself  to  that  effect.  He 

called  on  Miss  S on  his  arrival  in  New  York.  Mr. 

Hill,  not  harshly,  but  earnestly  pictured  to  her  the  certain 
misery  she  was  bringing  upon  herself  and  all  connected 
with  her,  by  pursuing  the  course  she  seemed  to  have 
marked  out  for  herself.  He  then  informed  her,  that  her 
mother  had  commissioned  him  to  conduct  her  back  to  Bos 
ton,  but  to  this  she  would  not  listen.  "  What  is  your  ob 
ject,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  "  in  remaining  in  the  city  ?"  She  made 
no  reply,  and  Mr.  H.  told  her  somewhat  impatiently,  that 
he  knew  why  she  would  not  leave,  "  And,  madam,"  said  he, 
"  I  can  see  nothing  but  ruin  to  yourself  and  to  the  man 
you  pretend  to  love,  in  a  persistence  in  this  wretched  con 
duct.  What,  if  you  take  your  lover  from  the  bosom  of  the 
woman  he  has  sworn  to  love  ;  can  you  expect  a  moment's 
happiness  ?  can  you  rely  upon  the  feelings  of  a  man  who 
can  so  easily  be  decoyed  away ;  but  no,  you  will  not  be  a 
party  to  such  a  thing.  You  have  been  blinded  by  passion. 
I  will  now  leave  you,  and  in  the  afternoon,  having  given 
you  till  that  time  for  reflection,  I  will  again  call  to  learn 
your  decision." 

Mr.  H.  saw  that  the  most  prompt  measures  must  be  em 
ployed  to  wake  up  the  infatuated  girl  to  a  proper  sense  of 


140  YANKEE    HILL. 

her  degrading  position,  and  after  giving  the  subject  due 

consideration,  he  decided  upon  calling  on  Mrs.  D ,  the 

wife,  and  informing  her  of  the  affair  as  it  then  stood.  It 
was  a  painful  task,  but  he  thought  it  the  most  likely  way 
to  startle  Mr.  D to  a  sense  of  duty,  and  he  re 
solved  to  do  it.  He  was  surprised,  in  calling  upon  Mrs. 

D ,  to  discover  that  she  knew  all  about  it,  and  had  in 

her  possession  a  letter  from  Miss  S ,  to  Mr.  D . 

At  Mr.  Hill's  request,  Mrs.  D called  upon  Miss  S . 

When  Mrs.  D introduced  herself  and  showed  the  de 
luded  girl  the  letter,  the  latter  was  ready  to  sink  with  mor 
tification  and  shame.  Not  a  loophole  was  left  for  her  es 
cape  ;  no  excuse  could  be  offered,  for  in  her  own  hand 
writing  were  the  damning  proofs  of  the  injury  she  was  in 
flicting  upon  the  innocent  wife,  who  stood  before  her.  No 
harsh  reproaches  escaped  the  lips  of  the  injured  wife  :  no 
useless  recriminations  to  call  a  retort  from  the  guilty  girl ; 

but  Mrs.  D ,  with  the  noble  spirit  of  Him  who  said  to 

the  adultress,  "go  thou,  and  sin  no  more,"  kindly  pointed 
out  the  error  of  her  way,  and  urged '-her,  ere  it  were  too 
late,  to  fly  to  her  home,  and  to  her  distracted  mother. 
Overcome  by  the  dignity  of  the  woman,  whose  happiness 
she  had  so  nearly  destroyed,  she  burst  into  tears,  and  de 
clared  she  would  never  see  Mr.  D again.  "  Pardon 

and  forgive  me,"  said  she,  "  he  told  me  you  were  cold  to 
him,  that  you  did  not  care  for  him,  and  I  was  bewildered. 
He  has  basely  traduced  the  noblest  of  women,  and  the  best 
of  wives  :  take  back  his  miniature  he  gave  me.  Oh,  that  I 

had  never  seen  him."     Mrs.  D encouraged  her  in  her 

determination,  and  parted  from  her  in  kindness  and  charity. 
Mr.  Hill  called  in  the  afternoon  and  was  pleased  to  find  Miss 
S dressed,  and  ready  for  a  speedy  departure.  Mr.  H. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  141 

did  not  leave  her  till  he  saw  her  safe  on  the  Boston  steamer, 
on  her  way  to  her  friends  and  home.  Years  have  passed 
since  these  circumstances  transpired,  and  I  have  reason  to 
know  that  the  promise  she  gave  in  a  moment  of  poignant 
sorrow  and  shame  was  faithfully  kept  during  years  of 
changing  prosperity  and  fortune. 


142  YANKEE   HILL. 


THREE  CHANCES  FOR  A  WIFE. 


WHEN  a  man  has  three  chances  for  a  wife,  it  is,  indeed,  a 
hard  mischance  if  he  should  fail.  The  following  is  one  of 
those  cases,  which  might  have  occurred  down  east,  but  I 
am  rather  doubtful  if  a  similar  event  was  ever  known  in 
any  other  part  of  the  world.  But  let  me  give  the  expe 
rience  of  the  gentleman,  who  had  three  chances,  in  his  own 
language : 

"  I  once  courted  a  gal  by  the  name  of  Deb  Hawkins. 
I  made  it  up  to  get  married.  Well,  while  we  was  going 
up  to  the  deacon's,  I  stepped  my  foot  into  a  mud  puddle, 
and  spattered  the  mud  all  over  Deb  Hawkins*  new  gown, 
made  out  of  her  grandmother's  old  chintz  petticoat.  Well, 
when  we  got  to  the  deacon's,  he  asked  Deb  if  she  would 
take  me  for  her  lawful  wedded  husband  ?  '  No,'  says  she, 
'  I  shan't  do  no  such  thing.'  '  What  on  airth  is  the  reason  ?' 
says  I.  '  Why,'  says  she,  « I've  taken  a  mislikin'  to  you.' 
Well,  it  was  all  up  with  me  then,  but  I  give  her  a  string  of 
beads,  a  few  kisses,  some  other  notions,  and  made  it  all  up 
with  her ;  so  we  went  up  to  the  deacon's  a  second  time. 
I  was  determined  to  come  up  to  her  this  time,  so  when  the 
deacon  asked  me  if  I  would  take  her  for  my  lawfully  wed 
ded  wife,  says  I,  « No,  I  shan't  do  no  such  thing.'  '  Why/ 
says  Deb.  '  what  on  airth  is  the  matter  ?'  *  Why,'  says  I, 


ANECDOTES    AND   INCIDENTS.  143 

'I  have  taken  a  mislikin'  to  you  now/  Well,  there  it  was 
all  up  again,  but  I  gave  her  a  new  apron,  and  a  few 
other  little  trinkets,  and  we  went  up  again  to  get  married. 
We  expected  then  we  would  be  tied  so  fast  that  all  nature 
couldn't  separate  us,  and  when  we  asked  the  deacon  if  he 
wouldn't  marry  us,  he  said  '  No,  I  shan't  dew  any  sich 
thing.'  *  Why,  what  on  airth  is  the  reason  ?'  says  we. 
'Why/  says  he,  'I've  taken  a  mislikin'  to  both  on  you.' 
Deb  burst  out  cryin',  the  deacon  burst  out  scolding,  and  I 
burst  out  laughing,  and  sich  a  set  of  regular  busters  you 
never  did  see." 


144  YANKEE    HILL. 


SURGICAL  AMBITION.— THE  SPIRIT  WILLING 
BUT  THE  FLESH  WEAK. 


MR.  HILL  had  a  passion  for  everything  appertaining  to 
surgery,  but  he  had  in  his  composition  too  much  of  the 
milk  of  human  kindness  to  stand  with  a  bold  front  to  wit 
ness  the  suffering  consequent  upon  surgical  operations. 
He  often  expressed  his  appreciation  of  excellence  in  the 
art,  and  frequently  desired  an  opportunity  to  be  present  in 
the  hospital  when  some  great  operation  was  to  be  per 
formed.  One  of  his  friends  rallied  him  upon  his  want  of 
courage,  and  to  test  it,  offered  to  accompany  him  to  the 
hospital  on  the  next  operating  day.  Mr.  Hill  accepted  the 
invitation.  On  the  day  on  which  Mr.  Hill  was  introduced, 
the  operating  theatre  was  crowded,  as  the  celebrated  Dr. 
Warren  was  going  to  perform  one  of  those  bold  operations 
for  which  he  is  so  famous.  Hill  bore  the  preparatory  steps 
with  considerable  composure ;  but  when  the  patient  was 
seated  in  the  chair,  in  which  he  was  to  undergo  the  agony 
of  a  severe  and  tedious  operation,  his  sympathies  were 
painfully  excited,  and  his  courage  was  evidently  like  Bob 
Acres,  in  the  Rivals,  about  to  make  its  exit  by  way  of  his 
fingers.  The  accomplished  surgeon  took  his  scalpel  and 
made  the  first  incision.  Hill's  face  was  pale  as  marble  : 
he  held  his  fingers  to  his  ears  that  the  groans  of  the  tor- 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  145 

tured  patient  might  not  be  heard,  but  all  was  of  no  avail, 
and  he  left  the  theatre  with  as  much  haste  as  possible,  and 
sauntered  about  the  wards  of  the  hospital  until  all  was 
over. 

In  one  of  the  beds  lay  a  patient,  who,  a  short  time  pre 
viously,  had  lost  a  leg  by  amputation.  The  patient  knew 
Mr.  Hill,  and  spoke  to  him.  Mr.  Hill  did  his  best  to  get 
up  a  little  courage,  and  made  a  dismal  effort  to  assume  a 
professional  indifference,  but  the  sick  man  saw,  thought, 
and  said,  with  a  serio-comic  air,  "  Ah,  Mr.  Hill,  you  won't 
do  for  a  doctor.  This  is  a  horrid  place  for  a  Christian  to 
be  in.  My  leg  is  gone,  but  I  don't  care  for  that.  My 
wife  and  children  " — and  here  the  sick  man  paused.  Hill's 
hand  had  been  fumbling  in  his  pocket,  and  at  last  he  drew 
out  an  eagle,  and  threw  it  to  the  sick  man.  "  There,  send 
that  to  your  wife,  and  if  she  don't  want  to  use  it,  keep  it 
to  buy  yourself  a  wooden  leg  when  you  get  well."  Mr. 
Hill  took  a  hurried  departure  from  the  hospital ;  and  al 
though  he  neverjost  a  keen  sensibility  to  the  suffering  of 
his  fellow-creatures,  his  love  of  the  surgical  profession 
prevailed  sufficiently  to  enable  him  to  witness  operations 
afterwards  with  some  fortitude. 


146  YANKEE    HILL. 


LOVERS'  QUARRELS.— RECONCILIATION. 


ON  Mr.  Hill's  first  visit  to  London,  he  was  introduced  to 

the  family  of  Mr.  T ,  of ,  near  Regent's  Park. 

He  had  the  faculty,  in  an  eminent  degree,  of  making  those 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  love  him.  There  was  a 
frank,  hearty  manner  about  him  which  abhorred  conceal 
ments,  and  I  have  been  surprised  in  reading  over  some  of 
the  papers  in  my  possession  to  see  with  what  readiness  he 
obtained  the  confidence  of  others.  The  family  of  Mr. 
T ,  consisting  of  his  wife  and  three  daughters,  enter 
tained  the  highest  regard  for  Mr.  Hill,  and  as  will  be  seen 
by  the  sequel,  one  member  of  the  family  made  him  a  sort 
of  father  confessor,  in  a  very  delicate  affair ;  this  was  the 
eldest  daughter.  Mr.  Hill  had  observed  that,  during  his 
last  visit  to  the  family,  this  young  lady  had  lost  all  her 
vivacity,  and  seemed  depressed  and  melancholy.  She  had 
been  playing  at  the  piano,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Hill  with 
his  flute,  when  she  suddenly  gave  up  playing,  and  retired 
to  the  sofa.  It  so  happened,  there  was  no  one  in  the  room 
beside  themselves.  Mr.  Hill,  in  his  usual  kind  manner,  in 
quired  the  cause  of  her  sadness.  "  Oh,  not  much  !"  she 
replied,  "  my  health  has  not  been  as  well  as  usual,  lately." 
"  Excuse  me,  my  dear  Miss  T ,  but  I  think  there 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  147 

is  something  more.  If  you  have  any  cause  of  unhappiness 
confide  your  sorrow  to  me,  and  if  I  cannot  remove  the 
cause  of  your  depression,  the  sympathy  of  a  friend  will, 
perhaps,  alleviate  it :  come  now."  She  was  silent  for  a 
moment,  and  looking  at  Mr.  Hill  through  her  tears,  said 
"  You  are  right,  Mr.  Hill,  I  am  truly  miserable,  and  I  dare 
not  let  my  mother  or  sisters  know  the  cause.  I  have  been 

for  some  months  partially  engaged  to  Mr.  P ,  but  I 

felt  that  he  did  not  love  me  with  that  devotion  that  I 
wished,  and  I  determined  to  try  the  strength  of  his  at 
tachment.  About  three  weeks  ago  we  were  all  at  a  party, 
and  I  was  introduced  to  a  young  man,  who  during  the  even 
ing  paid  me  a  great  deal  of  attention,  which  I  encouraged — 
in  fact  we  appeared  devoted  to  each  other.  I  occasionally 
glanced  towards  him  whom  I  truly  loved.,  to  see  the 
effect  my  conduct  produced.  I  saw  that  he  was  hurt,  and 
yet  I  persisted  in  my  unfeeling  course.  At  length  he  was 
missing  from  the  room.  At  first  I  thought  nothing  of  his 
absence,  but  when  I  found  he  did  not  return,  my  heart  sank 
within  me,  and  I  ordered  the  carriage  and  went  home. 
The  next  day  I  received  a  letter  from  him,  in  which  he 
said  that  he  had  witnessed,  with  unspeakable  anguish,  my 
conduct  of  the  evening  before,  and  that  he  should  now 
take  leave  of  me  forever,  hoping  that  now  I  had  found  one 
better  suited  to  my  tastes  and  inclination,  and  should  be 
happy.  He  released  me  from  all  engagements.  He  con 
fessed  that  he  loved  me."  "  I  see/'  said  Mr.  Hill,  "  you  have 
acted  unkindly ;  but  tell  me,  if  your  lover  could  be  con 
vinced  of  the  true  state  of  the  case,  and  could  be  restored 
to  you,  would  you  venture  to  trifle  with  his  feelings  so 
again  ?"  "  Never  !"  she  earnestly  replied.  "  Well,  then, 
leave  the  matter  to  me ;  I  know  him  well ;  and  will  let  him 


148  YANKEE    HILL. 

understand  how  you  feel,  without  compromising  your  deli 
cacy  in  the  least."  Mr.  Hill  was  then  preparing  to  visit 
Paris,  whither  Mr.  P had  fled,  under  the  disappoint 
ments  he  had  experienced.  One  of  the  first  things  Mr. 

Hill  did,  on  reaching  Paris,  was  to  find  out  Mr.  P . 

He  had  not  his  address,  but  he  ransacked  all  the  public 
places  in  the  hope  of  meeting  the  truant,  but  with  no  suc 
cess,  for  some  time.  At  length,  whilst  taking  some  refresh 
ments  in  a  celebrated  cafe*,  who  should  come  in  but  the  me 
lancholy  lover.  He  was  delighted  at  seeing  Mr.  Hill,  for 
he  knew  he  should  hear  news  from  home,  and  especially  of 
her  to  whom  his  heart  was  still  devoted,  despite  her 
coquetry.  Mr.  Hill  found  no  difficulty  in  approaching  the 

subject,   for  it  was    one,  of  all  others,  Mr.  P was 

most  interested  in.  When  the  true  state  of  the  case  was 
made  known,  he  was  for  starting  back  to  England  by  the 
first  conveyance,  but  Mr.  Hill  restrained  the  impatient  lover, 
and  made  him  promise  to  stay  until  the  next  day,  which  he 
did.  Paris  had  now  lost  all  attractions  for  him,  and  not  one 
moment  longer  than  that  would  he  be  detained. 

On  Mr.  Hill's  return  to  England,  he  found  the  young 
lady  he  left  so  melancholy  and  depressed,  the  gayest  of  the 
gay.  Her  color  had  come  back  to  her  cheeks,  and  when 
he  suddenly  went  into  the  room  where  she  and  her 
lover  were  seated,  she  flew  to  receive  him,  and — shall  I  say 
it — kissed  him.  The  lover  was  by,  and  had  sense  enough 
to  attribute  this  kiss  of  gratitude  to  the  right  source.  They 
were  married  in  a  few  months  after,  and  are  now  as  happy 
a  couple  as  can  be  met  with  in  a  summer's  day. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  149 


THE   BAR-ROOM   LOAFER. 


HE  lies  in  bed  as  long  as  the  happy  sunlight,  streaming 
through  the  window  of  his  unpaid -for  lodging-room  will 
permit  him,  and  when  he  has  dressed  himself,  completed 
his  toilet,  and  is  half  satisfied  with  his  personal  appear 
ance,  he  ventures  forth. 

He  has  always  a  certain  round  to  perform,  and  never 
did  a  circuit  judge,  bent  on  fulfilling  his  business  with 
satisfaction  to  the  community,  perform  his  duty  with  more 
regularity.  He  knows,  at  the  first  house  on  his  circuit, 
which  he  generally  reaches  by  eleven  o'clock,  that  he  will 
meet  with  Alderman  Bluebottle. 

Alderman  Bluebottle  is  a  stout  man,  with  a  hoarse, 
rough  voice,  like  a  raven's.  He  is  popular  in  his  ward,  and 
one  of  the  committee  on  the  alms-house.  He  is  reputed  to 
be  pious,  and  goes  dead  against  the  Sunday  papers.  At 
tends  all  corporation  and  public  dinners,  and  stays  till  all 
is  blue.  He  drinks  a  glass  of  beer  at  eleven  o'clock  pre 
cisely,  to  the  minute,  at  precisely  the  same  house  every 
day  of  his  life. 

"  Sir,  the  cause  of  democracy  is  progressing,"  says  the 
Alderman. 

"  Are  it  ?"  says  a  thin,  spare  man,  who  accompanies 
him :  he  is  a  tailor  by  occupation,  a  man  of  considerable 


150  YANKEE    HILL. 

influence  among  the  cloth,  as  sharp  as  a  needle,  as  cutting 
as  a  pair  of  shears,  and  moreover,  a  voter  in  the  21st 
Ward. 

"Are  it,  though?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  says  the  Alderman,  ''too  long  degraded 
beneath  the  oppressive  exactions  of  a  collapsed,  injurious, 
unsentimental,  and  prodigal  government,  as  I  had  the  honor 
to  say  the  other  night,  in  the  Board.  ('  I  called  for  beer, 
sir :')  Sir,  what  did  I  say  the  other  night  in  the  board  ? 
We  were  discussing  that  momentous  question,  the  impor 
tance  of  educating  young  rats,  so  as  to  make  them  useful 
for  domestic  purposes.  By  the  bye,  did  you  hear  Mr.  Al 
derman  Drinkdry's  excellent  theory  on  that  subject  ?  All 
nature  informs  us,  that  original  minds  have  lost  their  dis 
tinguishing  qualities,  and  by  habit  and  education,  have  be 
come  the  reverse  of  what  they  were.  Sir,  if  the  human 
race  have  done  this  ere  thing,  why  may  not  the  animal 
creation.  Rats,  who  now  tear  up  the  floors  of  our  dwell 
ings,  and  ravages  our  barns,  who  enter,  without  feelings  of 
decency  and  respect,  the  bed-rooms  of  our  wives  and 
daughters,  break  into  our  shops  and  destroy  our  property, 
may,  by  education,  be  brought  to  be  protectors,  instead  of 
deceivers,  and  in  place  of  calling  out,  '  Behold  the  dust 
that  hangs  upon  their  bloody  track,'  we  may  have  to  shout 
hosannahs  to  *  Waiter,  bring  me  some  beer/  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  to  what  ?" 

"  To  what,  sir." 

"  Yes,  sir,  to  what  ?" 

"  To  the  triumphant  march  of  the  rats,  while  the  deep 
diapason  of  caterwauling  will  swell  the  scenes.  Sir,  I  move 
the  establishment  of  ten  normal  schools,  for  the  education 
of  young  rats." 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  151 

While  this  is  going  on,  our  worthy  friend,  the  loafer, 
has  been  perusing  the  papers  :  he  has  looked  through  the 
Courier  and  Express,  turned  up  his  nose  at  the  Journal 
of  Commerce,  requested  a  gentleman  to  make  haste  with 
the  Aurora,  and  wondered  when  the  Evening  Tattler  would 
be  out.  He  is  now  engaged  in  reading  the  bill  of  the  New 
York  Museum.  He  finishes  the  bill  as  Alderman  Blue 
bottle  closes  his  speech,  and  bowing  and  simpering,  walks 
forward. 

"  Good  morning,  Alderman,  what  prospects  have  we  for 
the  election." 

"  Well,  sir,  really  I  don't  know ;  I  guess  it's  all  0.  K." 

"  I  think  so  too.  I  have  voted  in  the  21st  Ward  every 
year  till  now.  I'm  sorry  to  move.  I  really  think  I  shall 
go  back." 

"The  21st  Ward  is  an  excellent  Ward,  and  our  people 
may  be  useful  there.  Pray,  sir,  are  you  drinking  any 
thing  ?" 

"  No,  Alderman,  but  as  it's  you,  a  very  small  glass  of 
brandy  and  water.  Now,  not  too  much.  Stay,  I'll  mix  it 
myself." 

And  so  our  friend  obtains  glass  No.  1.  Acquaintance 
after  acquaintance  drops  in,  and  the  bar-room  loafer  ma 
nages  as  often  to  be  recognized,  until  he  finds  some  un 
happy  acquaintance,  who,  in  pity  to  his  hungry  looks,  asks 
him  to  dine.  And  so  from  day  to  day  and  from  hour  to 
hour  he  continues  to  live,  and  fret  his  hour  upon  the  stage. 


152 


YANKEE    HILL. 


ANTIQUITIES  AND  PRODUCTS  GINERALLY. 


WE  now  come  to  the  ancient  diskiveries  proper,  and  the 
products  of  the  sile.  You  may  here  see  a  piece  of  the 
ginooine  Plymouth  rock.  It  was  thought  at  one  time  that 


the  English  had  carried  it  off,  and  made  it  a  part  of  the 
rock  of  Gibraltar,  but  when  they  paid  us  a  visit  in  red  uni 
form,  and  tested  the  material,  they  found  the  old  stun 
there,  and  they  found  it  a  Gibraltar  tew.  T  was  a  great 
letter  among  the  ancients,  and  from  it  arose  the  society  of 
T  totallers.  Their  idol,  the  Tea,  became  so  common,  arter 
a  spell,  that  it  was  emptied  by  the  box-full  intew  Boston 
harbor.  'Turtle,  a  shell  of  which  you  may  see  in  my  col 
lection,  gave  birth  tew  the  sayin'  of  "shell  out."  The 
tarm  hierology,  which  we  use  in  describin'  these  things, 
means  that  the  people  in  old  times  were  ruther  toploftical. 
A  number  of  these  matters  hev  been  hard  tew  diskiver, 
but  they  are  easy  when  you  know  'em.  Now,  many  on 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS. 


153 


you  b'lieve  the  old  sayin'  that  matches  were  made  in 
heaven,  but  I  kin  prove  they  were  made  in  New  England, 
'specially  the  Lucifer  ones.  Ef  I  had  time  I  might  say 
suthin'  about  the  brimstun  at  one  eend  of  'em,  but  I  leave 
you  all  tew  find  eout  about  that,  herearter,  yourselves. 
Putty  is  a  great  antiquity.  Its  fluctuation  in  this  day  is  a 
remarkable  contrast  tew  the  past :  putty,  anciently,  jest 
stuck  where  it  was  put.  You  hev  heern  of  corn  ?  Well,  I 
guess  you  hev.  Tew  vary  eour  subject,  and  teck  things 
ginerally,  we  will  pass  on  tew  corn,  and  that  brings  us  tew 
products.  The  race  anterior  tew  the  ancient  Pilgrims 
knew  suthin'  abeout  this  vegetable,  but  it  was  left  tew  eour 
airly  ancestors  tew  develop  the  full  usefulness  of  this  grain. 
The  Ingins  knew  heow  to  use  it  in  the  rough,  but,  oh ! 
Johnny  cakes  and  corn  juice,  tew  what  parfection  it  was 
finally  brought  by  the  descendants  of  the  primitive  fathers. 
This  cartouche  will  show  you  the  tew  stages  of  corn. 

Here  you  hev  corn  in  the  rough, 

Corn. 

X 


Corn  Juice. 

And  here  you  hev  it  in  parfection. 

Findin'  that  by  poundin'  the  grain,  mixin'  with  it  a  leetle 
milk  and  a  few  eggs,  that  it  made  a  mixtur  of  a  humanizin' 


154 


YANKEE    HILL. 


character  for  the  innards,  they  set  tew  work  tew  fix  a 
liquid  mixtur  eout  of  the  juice,  tew  was'  down  the  cakes, 
and  pursuin'  it  through  a  spirit  of  resarch,  from  one  dis- 
kivery  tew  anuther,  they  got  eout  a  juice  which  set  their 
tongues  workin'  very  lively.  Findin'  it  a  warmin'  mixtur, 
they  kept  on  takin'  it,  and  finally  their  legs  got  tew  movin' 
in  sech  a  zig-zag  fashion,  that  many  were  shocked  with  the 
new  drink.  This  diskivery,  undoubtedly,  pinted  many  intu 
very  crooked  ways,  and  gin  rise  tew  the  expression  that — 
"  This  is  a  great  country." 

It  may  be  proper,  before  proceedin'  farther,  tew  state 
that,  the  ancient  New  Englanders  wore  a  becomin'  kiverin* 
in  airly  times.  We  hev  here  a  cartouche,  presentin'  the 
outline  of  an  early  settler,  and  his  descendant  of  the  present 
gineration.  The  difference  in  the  outer  kiverin'  will  strike 


/.     \ 


your  eye  in  a  minnit.  In  old  times  they  went  in  for  an  all- 
sufficient  amount  of  brim,  while  neow,  hevin'  grown  cute, 
and  savin'  of  stuff,  they  cut  it  so  precious  narrow,  that  it  is 
eenamost  all  shaved  off.  T-e-s  they  dew.  In  the  coat 
some  difference  may  be  diskivered  ;  the  antique,  as  you  see, 
wraps  the  hull  body — while  in  t'other  the  body  is  neglected, 
and  the  material  is  all  consigned  tew  the  skirt,  or  tail-eend 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS. 


155 


of  the  kiverin'.  Frock  coats  air  an  exception,  and  sacks 
air  different  and  primitive.  Here,  neow,  is  a  very  interest- 
in'  relic  in  the  coat  way,  found  in  the  ruins  of  an  airly 


habitation,  and  it  is  the  best  evidence  we  kin  offer,  that 
some  of  eour  Irish  friends  were  among  the  first  native 
settlers.  Let  us  tech  and  pass  on  agin. 

It  is  a  gineral  opinion  that  wooden  clocks,  like  some 
people's  larnin',  came  naturally  tew  the  ancient  inhabitants, 
but  who  began  tew  build  'em  for  exportation  remains  a 
hidden  mystery.  It  is  pretty  sartain,  however,  that  wooden 
clocks  hev  ben  diskivered,  and,  I  may  say,  that  in  my 
travels,  not  only  on  this  Continent,  but  in  some  furrin' 
parts,  I  hev  hearn  on  a  few  of  'em,  and  seen  a  couple,  I 
reckon  :  well,  I  guess  I  hev.  They  are  a  nat'ral  product  of 
New  England.  Wooden  nutmegs  spring  spontaneously 
from  the  sile ;  tooth-powder  is  turned  out  as  plenty  as  saw 
dust,  and  a  good  deal  like  it  tew ;  bear's  grease  made  from 
New  England  pork,  highly  scented,  is  biled  down  in  its 
factories  ;  and  the  patent  pills,  which  can  cure  anything 
from  measles  to  an  amputated  head,  hev  all  sprung  from 
this  ancient  race.  I  hev  here  a  small  cartouche,  found  in  a 
mortar,  which  explains  pills  easy. 


156 


YANKEE    KILL. 


Pills. 

A  fellar  is  here  represented  about  tew  swaller  one,  and  he 
looks  as  ef  his  innards  didn't  like  pills.  We  hev  good 
reason  tew  b'lieve  that  New  Englanders  made  the  first 
shoes,  for,  on  decypherin'  one  of  the  old  inscriptions  below 
this  cartouche,  we  find  inscribed  the  words  : 

"  There  is  nuthin'  like  leather." 

X 


An  evidence  agin  which  there  kin  be  no  dispute.  What  a 
a  sublime  contemplation  it  is,  that  New  England  protects, 
by  the  science  of  cobblin,  the  gineral  understandin'  of  half 
creation. 

We  now  come  tew  the  interesting  part  of  eour  subject, 
which  more  particularly  treats  of  punkins.  Punkins  air 
indigenous  tew  our  sile,  and  the  ancient  settlers  feound 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS. 


157 


that  eout,  at  an  early  period;  seeing  this  big  fruit,  they 
natrally  sot  tew  work  to  see  what  its  innards  was  made 
of.  By  sartain  paintin's  and  cartouches,  still  presarved, 
and  by  written  history,  as  sot  deown  in  hieroglyphics,  we 
learn  that  they  first  tried  'em  raw,  but  they  didn't  eat  good, 
and  then  they  cooked  'em.  Ah  !  OH  !  !  AHEM  !  !  !  (licks  his 
chops.)  A  diskivery  was  now  made,  which  sot  the  mouths 
of  a  hull  colony  watering.  They  soon  got  tew  making 
them  intew  pies,  which  fact  we  see  proved  by  this  cartouche. 


Punkin  Pie. 

Punkin  is  put  over  the  pie,  to  signify  that  the  punkin 
•was  first  diskivered,  and  that  it  was  a'ter  made  intew  the 
pie.  You  will  recollect,  that  the  pie  was  the  second  dis 
kivery.  The  eatin'  of  the  pie  wanted  no  studdy,  for  it 
was  found,  by  actual  experiment,  that  ef  you  put  a  piece 
of  the  pie  intew  the  hands  of  a  Yankee  babby,  it  jest  na 
trally  puts  it  in  its  mouth. 

At  one  period,  we  held  a  deep  investigation  in  the  histo 
rical  society,  tew  which  I  hev  the  honor  of  bein'  Corres- 
pondin'  Secretary.  The  subject  was  this  stun, 


158  YANKEE    HILL. 

which  bore  this  queer  inscription : 

ITIS   APU   NKIN   ITIS. 

It  was  plain  tew  to  perceive  that  it  was  a  petrified  vegeta 
ble,  but.it  was  desp'rate  hard  tew  decipher,  geologically, 
its  class,  'cause  it  was  so  carefully  dried  up.  We  sot  tew 
work  on  the  inscription,  thinkin'  that  as  it  was  antique,  it 
would  tell  the  origin  of  the  plant,  or  gin  us  a  peep  intew 
some  matter  of  airly  history.  Deacon  Starns,  the  Presi 
dent,  a'ter  consultin'  all  the  books  in  the  library,  remarked 
to  the  Society,  in  his  commandin'  way : — 

DEACON. — A'ter  a  sarchin1  hunt,  and  considerable  read- 
in',  I  hev  found  eout,  that  the  first  word  is  a  Latin  tarm. 
It  is — "  ITIS, — thou  goest,"  and  I  reckon  I  wouldn't  go 
through  sech  anuther  hunt  tew  find  eout  the  beginnin'  or 
eend  of  creation.  I  had  a  sarchin'  time,  I  b'lieve. 

Eour  antiquary  spoke  up  right  peert  tew  the  President 
on  hearin'  this  : 

ANTIQUARY. — Why,  Deacon,  ITIS,  well,  yes,  guess  it  is, 
well,  I  declare,  who'd  thought  it, — and  I  swow  ef  the  last 
word  don't  spell  jest  the  same  thing.  Thou  goest.  Yes, 
jest  the  same.  Mabbe  the  middle  means  that  tew,  let  me 
see.  No,  for  spell  it  which  way  you  will,  up  or  down,  it 
seems  tew  mean  suthin'  else,  y-e-s,  I  guess  it  does  ;  well, 
really.  I  move  Deacon,  we  sit  on  this  stun  till  we  find  it 
eout.  Parseverance  will  dew  it,  for  by  that  you  hev 
already  diskivered  the  first,  and  me  the  last  word. 

DEACON. —  You  diskiver?  ahem!  You!  I  found  both 
out  myself. 

ANTIQUARY. — You  will  own,  Mr.  President,  that  you  ony 
named  the  first. 

DEACON. — Yes  ;  and  that  was  the  key  tew  the  second, 
sir  :  neow  how  do  you  feel  ? 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS.          159 

ANTIQUARY. — I  reckon,  deacon,  it's  one  thing  tew  find 
the  key,  and  anuther  tew  know  its  use.  I  aint  goin'  tew 
be  robbed  of  my  resarches,  /  guess  ;  particularly,  a'ter  I 
hev  unlocked  a  secret  of  sech  importance. 

DEACON. — Ef  the  antiquity  gentleman  of  this  so-ci-e-ty 
hes  a  mind  tew,  he  will  please  come  tew  order. 

The  society  unanimously  called  the  antiquary  tew  order, 
and  rite  off,  a  new  member,  a  timid  lookin'  young  feller, 
remarked  : 

NEW  MEMBER. — Ef  it  would  please  the  society,  I  would 
like  to  make  a  slight  remark  ;  not  that  I  kin  throw  light 
upon  the  subject  afore  you ,  a  timely  remark,  however, 
might  lead  to  new  remarks,  and  remarkin'  upon  one  point 
a'ter  anuther,  would  draw  eout  remarks. 

DEACON. — (Waving  hand.)  Go  on,  sir;  let  us  hear 
your  remark,  and  ef  you  please  make  it  remarkable  brief. 

NEW  MEMBER. — Yes,  sir.  I  would  ony  remark,  that  eour 
doctor  remarked,  that  APU,  if  the  U  was  an  0,  would 
be  the  Greek  word  for/rom. 

The  sensation  at  heerin'  this  was  tremenjus.  I  may  say 
the  hull  society  was  set  a  bilin'.  The  new  member  got 
frightened  at  what  he  had  did,  and  I  natrally  expected 
him  tew  run.  Eour  antiquary  moved  that  a  medal  be 
struck  in  his  honor,  and  that  frightened  him  wus.  He  said 
he  be  durned  if  they  should  strike  him  with  a  medal,  and 
threatened  he'd  lick  the  antiquary  the  first  time  he  caught 
him  sarchin'  in  the  ruins  of  his  daddy's  mill.  Finally,  the 
twitter  in  which  they  had  all  been  put,  smoothed  down, 
and  they  all,  ginerally,  sot  tew  work,  tew  find  eout  the  last 
undiskivered  word.  I  told  'em  now,  myself,  that  ef  the 
third  word  had  an  (a)  and  (n)  atween  the  (n)  and  (&),  I'd 
think  it  was  nankin. 


160  YANKEE    HILL. 

ANTIQUARY. — That's  it.  It's  named  a'ter  nankin  trowsersf 
PRESIDENT. — A.h  !  yes,  yes ;  that  is  a  Chinese  word.     I 

have  heard  the  captin*  of  one  of  my  vessels  say  it  was  a 

teown  in  China.    Ah !  ha  !  that  is  it,  sure  enough,  I  reckon. 

Well,   I  cal'late  the  hull  reads  now,  clear  as  moonshine  : 

let  me  see : 

Latin.  Greek.          Chinete.  Latin. 

ITIS       APU      NKIN        ITIS. 

THOU  GOEST    FROM      NANKIN,     THOU  GOEST. 

It  is  plain  as  the  nose  on  a  face,  tew  the  eye  of  science 
ginerally,  and  tew  this  society  in  particular,  that  this  stun 
was  once  a  Chinese  fruit,  sent  eout  to  this  country,  to  see 
ef  it  would  fructify,  and  here  the  darn  thing  has  taken  a 
notion  instead  to  petrify  ! 

The  applause  was  tremenjus  ! 

Zachariah  Stanhope,  a  consarned  dirty  little  rascal,  who 
swept  our  historical  room  and  made  the  fires,  bust  right 
eout  intew  a  snigger.  He  had  been  sticking  his  tow  head 
atween  the  heads  of  the  society,  and  was  deciphering  the 
inscription  tew. 

PRESIDENT. — Zack,  what  air  you  sniggerin'  eout  in  that 
way  abeout,  eh  ? 

ZACH. — At  the  stun,  sir. 

PRESIDENT. — Well,  what  abeout  the  stun  ? 

ZACH. — At  the  words,  sir. 

PRESIDENT.— Hah !  At  the  words,  eh  ?  Well,  what  do 
you  spell  eout  of  them  ?  come,  let  us  hear  you  ;  and  the 
president  winked  at  the  society. 

ZACH, — (a'ter  wiping  his  nose,  and  lickin'  his  lips,  read 
right  eout,) — 

IT-IS-A-PUNKIN-IT-IS ! ! 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  161 

And  so  it  was,  a  consarned  dried  up,  petrified  punkin, 
that  had  dried  up,  as  you  kin  see,  more  one  way  than 
t'other.  A'ter  votin'  a  medal  to  the  diskiverer  of  this  in 
scription,  eour  society  adjourned. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  walk  up  and  see  my  antiquities. 

j 

I  do  not  claim  for  Mr.  Hill  any  great  originality,  either 
in  the  conception  or  execution  of  the  following  lecture  on 
the  antiquities  of  New  England.  I  feel  almost  sure  the 
idea  was  suggested  by  Mr.  Gliddon's  lectures  on  Egypt,  to 
which  it  bears  a  strong  resemblance  in  the  very  extraordi 
nary  character  of  the  facts  related,  and  the  oddity  of  the 
hypothesis  sought  to  be  established.  The  title  of  Mr. 
Hill's  lecture,  viz.  "Antiquities  of  New  England," brings  to 
my  mind  a  question  once  absolutely  put  to  me  by  a  phy 
sician,  then  practising  in  the  city  of  Brooklyn.  I  was  walk 
ing  along  the  Heights  with  him  one  evening,  when  the 
Doctor  turned  towards,  and  thus  addressed  me,  "  Doctor," 
said  he,  ''  are  all  those  old,  ancient  antiquities  of  former 
times,  all  covered  with  ivory,  which  we  read  of  in  England, 
realities  or  mere  creatures  of  the  imagination  ?"  It  will 
appear  almost  incredible,  perhaps,  that  a  man  possessing 
a  diploma  for  the  practice  of  a  liberal  profession,  could 
deliver  himself  of  "such  perilous  stuff;"  but  I  pledge  my 
word  that  the  language  I  have  put  into  his  mouth  is  verba 
tim,  that  which  he  employed  to  express  himself  on  this  oc 
casion.  With  regard  to  Mr.  Hill's  Antiquities  of  New  Eng 
land,  I  shall  leave  my  reader  to  judge  whether  "they 
are  realities,  or  mere  creatures  of  the  imagination." 


162  YANKEE   HILL. 


THE    PEOPLE    AND    ANTIQUITIES    OF    NEW   ENGLAND, 
YANKEEOLOGICALLY    SPEAKING. 

IT  is  a  pooty  ginerally  conceded  fact,  that  man  is  a 
queer  critter,  and  that  when  he  aint  movia'  abeout  he's 
doin'  suthin'  else.  This  pint  bein'  conceded,  we  pass  on 
tew  remark,  that  the  first  race  which  sot  deown  in  New 
England,  were  of  this  movin',  reound  kind  of  critters,  and 
I  rekon  they  hev  fixed  a  leetle  mite  of  their  stirrin'  reound 
propensities  upon  the  ginerations  that  followed  a'ter.  This 
part  of  eour  subject  may  not  account  for  the  milk  in  the 
cocoa  nut,  but  it  does  account  for  why  your  humble  sar- 
vint  is  here.  All  owin'  tew  his  New  England  propensity 
for  stirrin'  reound.  Well,  hevin'  settled  this  pint  we'll 
pass  on  tew  consider  the  next.  It  has  been  ginerally 
thought,  that  the  airly  inhabitants  of  New  England  all 
came  from  some  place,  and  I  guess  they  did.  What's  more, 
they  found  a  place  tew  come  tew,  when  they  came.  This 
in  some  measure,  accounts  for  the  ancient  sayin',  that 
"  you'll  be  there  when  you  git  tew  the  place."  Well,  a'ter 
eatin'  a  clam- chowder,  of  which  we  have  sufficient  evidence 
that  they  were  desp'rately  fond,  'cause  the  shells  air  scat 
tered  abeout  promiscuously,  these  airly  New  Englanders 
sot  to  work  at  makin'  themselves  tew  hum,  and  they  suc 
ceeded  a'ter  a  fashion.  The  fashion  hes  ben  found  to  be 
a  tolerable  good  one  tew,  for  their  posterity  stick  tew  the 
same  way  of  gittin'  along,  even  unto  the  present  ginera- 
tion.  Well,  as  I  was  sayin',  they  made  themselves  at  hum. 
Where  they  landed,  there  was  considerable  sand,  some 
stuns,  and  a  leetle  dash  of  water,  and  from  sartin'  hiero- 
glyphical  evidence,  we  air  enabled  tew  make  out,  that  they 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  163 

were  jest  abeout  as  hard-headed  a  race  as  ever  made  up 
their  minds  tew  settle  down  wherever  they  had  a  mind  tew. 
It  aint  exactly  known  whether  they  came  in  a  hickory 
canoe,  or  a  birch  basket,  but  jedgin'  from  the  way  New 
England  schoolmasters  use  these  tew  kind  of  woods,  eour 
historical  society  hev  settled  deown  intew  the  opinion,  that 
they  came  in  both.  Select  men  were  chosen  and  appinted 
in  them  days  to  rule  over  the  people,  and  they  in  turn  used 
tew  select  some  of  the  people  tew  be  ruled  over,  and  they 
ginerally  did  this  rulin'  with  a  rod.  In  modern  New  Eng 
land  varsion,  the  select  men  air  "old  flints,"  I  reckon 
'cause  some  on'  em  air  a  leetle  flinty-hearted.  Talkin'  of 
flints  brings  me  tew  an  important  pint  in  my  subject,  and 
that  is  ROCKS.  Nigh  ontew  all  on  you  hev  heerd  abeout 
the  Rock  of  Plymouth,  and  if  youhev'nt,  it's  a  darned  shame 
for  it's  often  enough  talked  about.  The  ancient  inhabi 
tants  of  New  England,  beyond  dispute,  landed  on  this  rock, 
and  they  found  it  a  pooty  solid,  steady  kind  of  a  footin'. 
From  this  fact  grew  eout  the  common  sayin'  that  New- 
England  is  the  land  of  steady  habits.  Heow  could  they  be 
otherwise,  when  they  commenced  on  so  solid  a  foundation  ? 
Without  runnin'  this  rock  intew  the  ground,  I'd  like  tew 
say  suthin'  abeout  its  antiquity.  It  is  pooty  ginerally  con 
ceded  that  afore  it  was  diskivered,  it  had  staid  in  the  same 
place  a  pooty  long  spell — mabbe  anterior  to  Adam  !  Who 
knows  ?  I'll  be  durned  if  I  dew.  All  I  know,  and  all  it's 
necessary  for  me  tew  find  eout  is,  that  it  is  there,  and  I 
ruther  guess,  a'ter  I  hev  handled  it  a  leetle  mite  there, 
I'll  leave  it.  You  see  here,  in  this  diagram,  a  correct  repre 
sentation,  or  as  nigh  as  I  can  git  it,  of  this  identical  rock, 
(Lecturer  points  at  it,) 


164  YANKEE    HILL. 


and  if  you  all  look  sharp,  you  will  see  that  it  is  pooty  con 
siderable  of  a  stun.  It  is  known  tew  be,  by  a  kind  of 
natural  humin  cal'lation,  an  all-sufficient  sight  older  than 
the  Egyptian  pyramids,  and  anterior  tew  the  present  times, 
at  least  5000  years.  Our  society  aint  ben  able,  as  yet,  tew 
trace  the  Polk  name  down  tew  the  airly  dynasties  of  the 
select  men,  but  I  reckon  we  will  yet  find  it  eout.  We 
hev,  however,  in  eour  archilogical  diggin'  diskivered  the 
word  Pillow,  but  whether  it  was  any  relation  tew  Gideon 
Pillow,  is  not  yet  sartin.'  The  word  is  thought  tew  hev 
a  soft  meanin/  but  larnin  tew  read  hieroglyphics,  we  hev 
ascertained  that  a  man  named  Jacob,  who  was  lost  in  the 
wilderness,  pillowed  upon  a  stun.  Now,  Gideon  bein'  also 
ancient,  a  spirit  of  deduction  natrally  leads  us  tew  Pillow 
and  then  Jacob  pints  eout  the  stun,  and  here,  you  see,  we 
slide  right  back  tew  rock  from  where  we  started.  This 
explanation,  we  think,  fully  establishes  this  cartouche,  which 
has  been  whittled  in  the  old  stun  by  a  son  of  the  airly 
Pilgrims. 

This  is  the  first  indication  we  hev  of  the  tune  "  Yankee 
Doodle,"  and  the  sound  on  it  is  explained  by  the  steps 
and  crow  of  a  rooster,  thus  :  "  Yan — kee — doo — del — 
dan — dy.  One — two — three — four — ooo  !  (crow.)  The 
Arabs,  by  which  we  mean  the  modern  portion  on  'em,  used 
to  visit  Plymouth  Rock,  and  break  off  pieces  of  the  stun, 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS.  165 


Yankee-  Doodle- Doo. 

eout  of  which  propensity  grew  the  common  saying,  "  I'd 
a  good  deal  ruther  crack  rock."  Antiquarians,  tew,  visited 
the  old  spot,  and  used  tew  fill  their  pockets  with  pieces 
of  the  stun,  which  give  rise  tew  the  modern  expression, 
"  sech  a  fellar  is  in  town  with  a  pocket  full  of  rocks.' 
You  kin  see  this  symbolized  in  this  cartouche. 


Pocket  full  of  Rocks. 


The  next  stun,  or  I  should  say  pile  of  stuns,  is  the 
Monument,  and  usin'  the  words  of  a  celebrated  New- 
England  Savan,  "  there  it  stands  /" 


166 


YANKEE    HILL. 


and  you  couldn't,  very  easy,  make  it  dew  anythin'  else. 
It  is  situated  on  Bunker  Hill,  named  after  old  Joe  Bunker, 
who  used  lew  make  shoes  rite  down  at  the  hill  foot. 
Whether  the  rest  of  the  spot  and  Hills  in  gineral  were 
named  arter  my  own  ancesters,  I  aint  yet  diskivered,  but 
in  future  explorations  I  hev  hopes  of  findin'  eout,  on  some 
Hill,  a  key-stun  pinting  eout  the  gratifyin'  fact  that  your 
lecturer  is  descended  from  a  ginooine  old  settler.  When 
this  obelisk  began  tew  be  lusted  up,  is  a  period  only  known 
to  the  "  oldest  inhabitant."  Sartain  curious  inscriptions, 
buried  in  a  hollow  stun  beneath  its  base,  tells  all  abeout  it, 
but  I  aint  seen  'em,  nor  I  don't  expect  tew  soon  do,  but  I 
know  they  are  there,  'cause  somebody  told  me.  Here  is  a 
miniature  of  it,  whittled  eout  in  my  smoothest  style.  The 
great  distinguishin'  featur'  about  this  stupendous  mountain 
of  stun  is  the  fact,  that  they  begun  tew  fix  it  up  from  the 
top  down.  I  guess  now,  mabbe  some  on  you  don't  b'lieve 
this,  but  ef  I  could  ony  git  you  all  intew  a  mesmeric  state 
you'd  see  it  jest  as  easy — I  might  say,  jest  as  easy  as  ef 
you  had  your  eyes  shet.  Some  dew  say  that  clairvoyance 
is  a  regular  "  open  and  shet ;"  heow  that  is,  I  leave  you 
tew  cypher  eout  by  your  own  natral  bent  of  genius,  while 
I  proceed  tew  explain  heow  the  Bunker  Hill  obelisk  was 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS. 


167 


built  downward.  From  a  cute  and  sarchin'  investigation, 
I  hev  diskivered  that  the  hull  pile  of  rock  is  capped  by 
one  stun.  Now,  heow  could  the  pile  be  put  up  under  that 
stun?  I  reckon  we  hev  neow  arriv  at  the  pint  of  the 
subject.  As  I  said  before,  it  is  not  one  stun,  but  a  whole 
pile — now,  there  you  hev  it — how  is  it  going  to  git  up  ? 
By  the  simple  process  (simple  when  you  know  it,) — and 
there  it  is,  jest  like  Zacharia  Dempson's  new  patent  ma 
chine  for  manufacturin'  the  wind  intew  short-cake,  by  the 
simple  process  of  mesmerism,  the  top  stun,  and  making  it 
stay  there,  at  jest  the  height  they  wanted — few  elevate  the 
pile  above  the  airth.  This  diagram  shows  the  slantin'  of 
the  mesmeric  fluid,  and  here  you  see  the  top  stone. 

X 


There  is  another  streak  of  fluid  on  the  other  side  which  you 
can't  see,  but  you  can  see  easy  that  when  the  mesmeric 
power  could  hold  this  stun  up  here,  it  was  desp'rate  easy 
tew  hitch  the  other  stuns  tew  the  fluid,  and  by  drawin'  your 
hand  down  so,  (manipulates,}  stick  'em  so  consarned  fast 
that  an  airthquake  couldn't  shake  'em  loose.  I  don't  won 
der  some  of  you  opin  your  eyes,  for  the  progress  of  this 
age,  in  the  onward  march  of  antiquarian  research,  new 
diskiveries,  and  everlastin'  upturnin'  of  new  things,  keep 
continually  putting  the  cap-stun  on  all  preconceived  no- 


168 


YANKEE    HILL. 


tions.  I  would  jest  refer  you, — and  this  pile  is  an  as 
tounding  illustration  of  the  re-markable  difference  atween 
the  ancient  New  Englanders,  and  the  ancient  Egyptians. 
It'll  strike  you  in  a  moment,  and  it'll  show  you  what  a 
dark  and  be-nighted  set  they  were,  as  you  get  east'ard, 
while  as  you  get  west'ard,  as  far  as  the  eastern  part  of  this 
continent,  it'll  be  diskivered  that  mankind  grew  cute  and 
cunnin' — y-e-s  they  did !  The  poor  yaller-skinned  Asiatics., 
had  no  more  sense, — I  swow,  I've  a  propensity  tew  bust 
rite  intew  a  reglar  roar,  when  I  think  that  a  people  who 
looked  so  ripe  as  to  be  yaller,  could  be  so  durnation  green. 
Would  you  b'lieve  it  ? — I  reckon  you'll  find  it  hard  tew — 
these  be-nighted  people  writ  deown  the  history  of  their  mon- 
aments  rite  on  their  face,  jest  where  every  fellar  who  tuck 
the  trouble  tew  larn,  could  read  it  right  eout  in  meetin',  ef 
he'd  a  mind  tew.  I  say,  they  writ  it  right  deown  on  the 
stun,  so  it  couldn't  be  wasked  eout  with  the  rain  of  cen 
turies.  Neow  you  can  see  the  Egyptin'  darkness  of  these 
poor  critters.  Heow  is  it  on  t'other  side  ?  Heow,  and 
what  distinguishes  the  ancient  New  England  monament 
builders  ?  What  shows  their  cuteness  ?  I  kin  tell  you  in 
a  few  words,  pertinently  delivered.  The  New  Englanders 
buried  the  history  of  their  monaments  in  the  solid  rock, 
under  the  hull  pile  of  stun,  and  if  the  futur*  sarcher  a'ter 
ancient  New  England  antiquities,  wants  tew  read  it,  he'll 
hev  tew  either  know  mesmerism,  or  else  pull  the  hull 
tremenjus  obelisk,  cap-stun  and  all,  deown,  tew  find  out 
what  it's  all  about.  This  is  what  I  call  cute.  It  is  show- 
in'  tew  the  world  that  the  pryin',  sneekin'  reound,  findin' 
eout  propensities  of  futur'  ginerations  will  hev  to  scratch 
and  a  few,  afore  they  can  git  intew  their  secrets. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  169 

We  now  come  tew  anuther  head  of  our  lectur',   and  that 

is  HEAKTH-STUNS. 

This  last  named  antiquity  has  sometimes  appeared  in 
brick,  and  then  agin  in  marble;  but  who  found  the  last 
brick  thrown  in,  or  at  this  head  of  our  discourse,  eour 
society  aint  yet  decided  upon.  Where  the  hearth-stun 
lay,  however,  and  what  were  its  gineral  uses,  is  jest  as 
well  known  tew  eour  society,  as  the  big  letters  in  the  New 
England  Primer.  You  hev  here,  in  this  cartouche,  a  rude 
representation  of  the  hearth-stun. 
Clock. 


Candle.  ii£  J  .^^Ilil  II  Candle. 


Stan. 

How  the  inhabitants  made  use  of  this  stun,  is  the  subject 
we  shall  talk  on  for  a  spell.  I  cal'late  it  was  in  pooty 
constant  use.  Hieroglyphics  relate  that  Deacon  Bigelow 
was  seated,  one  evenin'  about  nine  o'clock,  on  this  side  ; 
and  on  t'other  side,  jest  about  there,  old  Mrs.  Bigelow  was 
sittin'  smokin'.  A  leetle  tew  the  right  of  Mrs.  B.,  and  jest, 
I  may  say,  in  her  shadder,  was  seated  Abby,  the  eldest 
darter,  who  has  jest  got  in  from  singin'-school ;  and  rite 
opposite  tew  her  is  Jedediah  Peabody,  a  spruce,  smart- 
lookin'  young  fellar,  son  of  old  Deacon  Peabody,  who  has 
ben  seein'  Nabby  hum  from  the  singin'  class.  Jest  abeout 
there,  frontin'  the  fire,  is  seated  the  deacon's  eleventh  child 
and  as  he  is  the  last,  of  course  he  is  a  pet.  He  kin  jest 
talk  plain;  and  seein'  Jed  come  in  with  Abby,  his  eves  are 
8 


170  YANKEE    HILL. 

abeout  as  wide  open,  as  it  could  be  expected  any  young 
critter's  would  stretch  at  his  tender  years.  He  sees  Jed 
wink  at  Abby,  ( Oh  /)  and  now  he  watches  Abby,  and  sees 
her  look  pleased,  and  shake  her  head  at  Jed.  ( Good  gra 
cious  /)  And  so  he  eyes  one,  and  then  t'other,  his  aston 
ishment  growin'  on  him  every  minnit,  until  his  Ma  says  : 

MRS.  B. — Deacon  Bigelow  is  the  cattle  critters  fed  ? 

DEACON. — (Sleepy) — Well,  I  reckon  Isaiah  has  gin  'em 
suthin',  and  afore  this  litter'd  'em  down. 

MRS.  B. — Is  the  kindlin'  wood  brought  in  tew? 

DEACON. — Yes,  y-e-s,  my  dear,  all  is  r-i- 

MRS.  B. — Then  come  along,  git  up  and  let  us  go  tew 
bed.  You,  Abby,  mind  you  kiver  the  fire  up,  and  fasten 
the  door  afore  you  come  tiew  bed  ;  and  you,  Jed,  it's  time 
you  were  tew  hum.  Gideon,  git  up,  my  child,  and  dew  let 
us  all  git  tew  bed. 

Off  they  go,  and  eout  in  the  hall  little  Gid  commences 
tew  blow  on  Abby. 

GIDEON. — Ma,  you  ourt  tew  take  your  birch  tew  Jed 
Peabody. 

MA. — Why,  my  dear  boy,  what  did  Jed  dew  ? 

GIDEON — He  kept  all  the  time  makin'  mouths  at  Abby  ? 

DEACON. — Toddle  along  Gid,  and  shet  up. 

GIDEON. — Shet  up  !  I  guess  I  seed  him  dew  wus  than 
that ;  he  bit  her  the  other  night  right  on  her  lips,  I  seed 
him,  so  I  did. 

We  will  neow  return  tew  the  hearth-stun.  Jed  has  ben 
hitchin'  his  cheer  'round  tew  Abby,  and  by  hieroglyphical 
devices  we  larn  that  he  gits  his  cheer  chuck  up  agin  hers, 
and  by  the  progressive  rule  by  which  we  decypher  the  first 
part,  we  conclude  that  Jed  has  ben  at  it  agin,  the  durned 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  17 L 

critter  has  ben  kissin1  on  her,  or  as  young  Gid  calls  it,  bitin' 
her  on  the  lips  agin. 

From  the  blue-book  papyrus,  presarved  as  a  relic  of  the 
reg'lar  old  mum  my s  who  first  gathered  round  Plymouth 
rock,  we  larn  that  kissin'  was  so  prevalent  in  the  airly  days 
of  New  England,  that  the  young  folks  were  at  it,  not  only- 
only  on  every  day  in  the  week,  but  Sunday  tew ;  and, 
therefore,  it  was  found  necessary  tew  put  a  stop  tew  it  on 
the  seventh,  by  law.  I  reckon  that,  like  in  modern  times, 
the  young  folks  among  the  ancients  sot  Sunday  aside  as  a 
day  upon  which  to  dew  up  pooty  considerable  of  that  in- 
terestin'  kind  of  labor. 

The  hearth  of  every  true  New  Englander  reveres  this 
hearth-stun,  for  around  it,  no  matter  whether  it  be  of  brick 
or  marble,  gethers  the  loved  associations  of  hum.  It  is 
endeared  to  him  by  the  memory  of  a  venerated  father,  the 
fond  care  of  a  gentle  mother,  the  sweet  love  of  a  bright-eyed 
sister,  or  the  manly  friendship  and  affection  of  a  brother. 
In  infancy  he  has  crowed  with  glee  at  the  bright  blaze 
which  flashed  from  its  surface — in  youth  he  has  listened  in 
wonder,  beside  it,  to  the  related  history  of  his  Puritan  an 
cestors — in  manhood  he  has  whispered  a  tale  of  love  in  the 
ear  of  beauty,  by  the  border  of  this  old  hearth-stun,  and 
sealed  on  the  fair  lips  of  virtue,  the  pledge  of  unending 
attachment,  and  in  old  age,  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  he  has 
gathered  around  it  his  children  and  his  children's  children, 
and  like  a  patriarch  of  old,  thanked  his  Creator  that  he 
lived  to  hear  again  the  sweet  music  of  his  kindred's  voices. 
The  hieroglyphic  seal  of  this  old  stun  is  inscribed  on  the 
heart's  tablet  of  every  ginooine  Yankee. 


172  YANKEE    HILL. 


LECTURE  ON  NEW  ENGLAND. 


WHO  can  read  the  simple  history  of  the  Republic  of 
North  America,  without  emotions  of  the  most  pious  reve 
rence  and  deep  affection  ?  With  the  improvements  in 
modern  navigation,  it  is  now  an  every-day  affair  to  see 
vessels  that  have  traversed  the  widest  seas ;  but  think  of 
things  as  they  were  then,  the  vague  ideas  of  this  "  wilder 
ness  world,"  its  savage  inhabitants,  and  its  beasts  of  prey, 
that  were  the  horrors  of  the  nursery,  as  are  those  now  of 
Africa  and  Australasia,  and  you  can  form  some  conception 
of  the  feelings  of  fathers  and  their  families,  on  exiling  them 
selves  from  home,  and  all  that  was  dear  on  earth,  save  their 
sacred  faith;  that,  like  St.  John  in  the  Isle  of  Patmos,they 
might  find  some  ritual  in  a  distant  wild.  Our  forefathers 
came  to  these  shores  under  convoy  of  no  naval  armament ; 
they  brought  no  trophies  of  glory  ;  they  were  not  attended 
•with  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  the  military  adventurer,  but 
with  the  "  simple  scrip  and  staff  of  the  pilgrim  ;"  unlike  the 
founders  of  ancient  Rome,  they  were  not  a  set  of  outlaws  and 
fugitive  felons,  but  a  company  of  Christian  brethren,  with 
their  wives  and  children,  led  on  by  no  grovelling  cupidity 
or  worldly  ambition,  but  by  unfaltering  devotion  and  faith. 
With  such  an  ancestry  and  history,  with  institutions  calcu 
lated  to  develop  the  highest  dignity  of  character,  with  a 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  173 

country  possessing  every  thing  in  the  physical  and  moral 
world,  to  enlarge  the  mind,  what  will  be  the  ultimate  bound 
of  our  attainments  as  a  people  ? 

A  few  days  since,  as  I  stood  upon  the  top  of  yonder 
capital,  the  crown  of  this  goodly  city,  gazing  upon  the  pic 
turesque  panorama  of  which  it  is  the  centre,  its  hive  of 
human  habitations,  its  spires,  its  streets  teeming  with  a 
countless  and  stirring  multitude,  its  hum  of  business,  its 
wharves  and  shipping,  its  green  common  and  drooping 
elms,  the  only  remnants  of  verdure's  former  realm,  its  bay 
gemmed  with  islands  and  whitened  with  sails,  expanding 
into  the  ocean;  and  when  I  turned  to  the  numerous  villages, 
in  every  direction,  clustering  around  their  churches,  like 
flocks  around  their  shepherds  ;  the  different  rail-roads  with 
their  trains,  like  some  fabled  monsters,  exhaling  smoke  and 
fire,  and  apparently  perforating  hills,  and  flying  over  valleys, 
the  naval  citadel  bearing  that  flag  which,  though  unfurled 
but  a  few  years  ago,  is  now  respected  in  every  sea, — I  was 
lost  in  rapture,  as  my  mind  pictured  the  probable  scene  but 
two  centuries  ago.  On  the  height  where  this  building  is 
based,  has  the  Indian  hunter  paused  awhile,  to  contemplate 
this  picture  of  nature,  and  could  he  have  expressed  himself 
in  the  language  of  the  poet,  he  would  have  exclaimed, 

"  I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey  !" 

Where  stands  this  proud  and  noble  city,  was  then  an  un 
broken  forest,  with  here  and  there  a  thin  wreath  of  smoke, 
betraying  the  nestling  wigwam  ;  the  partridge  led  the  young, 
where  now  the  Christian  mother  watches  the  gambols  of  her 
children — the  beautiful  fawn  sported  where  the  artless  girl 
winds  her  way  to  school,  and  the  cooing  pair  built  their 
little  home  in  the  branches  beneath  which  bashful  love  now 


174  YANKEE    HILL. 

woos  and  wins  the  fair  and  pure.  Where  the  thrush  made 
the  common  "  air  most  musical,"  now  swells  the  pealing 
anthem  of  the  choir  and  the  organ  ;  the  church-bell  tolls  the 
knell  of  every  parting  hour  where  the  screams  of  the  pan 
ther,  and  the  howl  of  the  wolf,  once  alarmed  the  ear  of 
night ;  where  the  eloquence  of  Webster,  Everett,  Choate, 
and  Bancroft,  are  like  household  tones,  was  then  heard  the 
harangue  of  some  aboriginal  orator ;  the  bay  which  now 
bears  the  steamer  and  the  ship,  was  then  unrippled  save 
by  the  light  canoe  and  the  "  black  duck  with  her  glossy 
breast  swinging  silently  "  on  the  glassy  heaving  surge. 

Alas,  for  the  poor  red  man  !  He  has  gone  with  his  game 
to  the  fair  hunting-grounds  of  the  West ;  his  last  arrow  is 
spent;  his  bow  is  broken;  the  hand  that  twanged  its 
string  has  forgotten  its  cunning.  A  new  race  and  a  new 
scene  have  sprung  up  as  by  some  strange  miracle. 

If  so  short  a  time  has  made  so  vast  an  alteration,  what 
will  it  be  two  centuries  hence  ?  it  is  not  in  the  power  of 
man  to  foretell ;  may  each  generation  advance  the  embel 
lishment  and  refinement  of  this  Athens  of  America,  and  its 
greatness  be  as  enduring  as  the  Acropolis.  The  true 
greatness  of  a  state  has  been  justly  said  to  consist  in  the 
character  of  its  people. 

Men,  high-minded  men, 
With  powers  as  far  above  dull  brutes  endued 

In  forest,  brake,  or  den, 
As  beasts  excel  cold  rocks  and  brambles  rude  : 

Men  who  their  duties  know, 
But  know  their  rights,  and  knowing  dare  maintain, 

Present  the  long-aimed  bluw, 
And  crush  the  tyrant  while  they  rend  the  chain, 

These  constitute  a  Stale. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  175 

Though  New  England  cannot  boast  of  rich  plantations, 
and  gangs  of  laborers  producing  vast  crops  of  cotton,  corn, 
and  rice,  of  inexhaustible  mines  and  rich  prairies,  waving 
like  lakes  of  verdure,  nor  of  many  fields  glistening  with 
the  golden  wheat,  yet,  like  the  mother  of  the  Gracchii,  she 
can  -point  to  her  children  and  say,  "  These  are  my  jewels" — 
"  here  is  my  wealth."  Can  you  show  me  those  who  are 
fairer,  braver,  or  smarter  than  these  ? 

When  asked  by  Madame  de  Stael,  "  Who  is  the  greatest 
woman  in  the  empire?"  Napoleon  is  said  to  have  replied, 
''  She  who  is  the  mother  of  the  most  children."  If  this  be 
true,  New  England  will  be  apt  to  bear  off  the  palm,  for  this 
is  her  great  staple  of  produce,  and  in  its  quantity  she  can 
vie  with  any  other  mother  in  the  world,  not  excepting  Ire 
land,  to  say  nothing  of  its  quality.  She  can  point  you 
also  to  her  battle-fields,  and  the  graves  of  those  who  have 
fallen  on  the  field,  or  the  deck,  or  have  devoted  their  inter 
ests,  their  wealth,  and  their  lives,  to  the  good  of  their  race 
and  their  country.  She  will  show  you  her  churches,  her 
colleges,  her  school-houses,  her  benevolent  associations,  her 
marts,  villages,  and  hamlets,  her  neat  farms,  where  art  and 
industry  are  triumphing  over  nature,  her  factories,  founderies, 
and  workshops,  where  human  ingenuity  is  contriving  to 
lighten  the  load  of  labor,  and  by  giving  new  value  to  mat 
ter,  promote  the  comfort  and  refinement  of  man.  She  will 
there  show  you  her  slaves,  of  which  it  cannot  be  said  as  of 
the  lilies,  "  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin  ;"  but  her 
right  of  ownership  cannot  be  questioned,  as  they  are  hers  by 
discovery — machines  of  her  own  contrivance,  and  for  which 
she  has  her  patent  from  Washington.  She  will  show  you 
her  ships,  whose  keels  cleave  every  navigable  sea;  her  long 
list  of  distinguished  men,  her  enterprising  and  thorough 


176  YANKEE    HILL. 

merchants,  and  wherever  the  foot  of  civilized  man  has  ever 
trod,  she  will  show  you  a  representative. 

Land  of  the  forest  and  the  rock, 
Of  dark  blue  lake  and  mighty  river, 
Of  mountains  rear'd  aloft  to  mock 
The  storm's  career,  the  ligntning's  shock, 
My  own  green  land  for  ever. 

Land  of  the  beautiful  and  brave, 

The  freeman's  home,  the  martyr's  grave, 

The  nursery  of  giant  men, 

Whose  deeds  have  linked  with  every  glen, 

And  every  hill,  and  every  stream, 

The  romance  of  some  warrior  dream ; 

Oh,  never  may  a  son  of  thine, 

Where'er  his  wandering  steps  incline, 

Forget  the  sky  which  bent  above 

His  childhood,  like  a  dream  of  love, 

The  stream  beneath  the  green  hill  glowing", 

The  broad-armed  trees  above  it  growing, 

Or  hear  unmoved  the  taunt  of  scorn, 

Breathed  o'er  the  brave  New-England  born. 

There  is  no  one  concerning  whom  there  have  been  such 
conflicting  opinions  as  the  native  of  this  region  ;  he  has  been 
compared  to  the  Scotchman,  whom  he  resembles  in  many 
particulars,  but  mingled  with  these  some  qualities  of  the 
Englishman,  and  m6re  that  are  peculiarly  his  own.  He  can 
truly  be  called  an  original.  This  is  manifested  not  only  in 
his  own  inventive  genius,  but  in  his  individuality  as  a  man. 
Wherever  you  behold  him  there  is  something  about  him 
different  from  those  of  other  origin.  It  is  not  fair  to  judge 
him  by  other  men,  for  he  is  sui  generis.  If  the  Virginian 
excels  as  an  advocate,  the  New  Englander  is  distinguished 


ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS.  177 

as  a  counsellor.  He  is  the  founder  of  new  States  and  the 
framer  of  their  laws.  As  a  public  speaker,  he  is  more  re 
markable  for  sound  argument  than  a  playful  fancy.  He  is 
more  distinguished  as  a  profound  statesman  than  a  mere 
politician,  and  makes  Demosthenes,  rather  than  Cicero,  his 
model.  When  those  from  other  sections  are  apt  to  act  in 
concert,  in  the  councils  of  the  nation,  you  find  him  consult 
ing  his  own  conscience,  and  acting  accordingly,  regardless 
of  immediate  consequences.  In  sarcasm,  he  has  been  un 
surpassed,  but  his  favorite  weapon  is  the  sledge-hammer, 
rather  than  the  rapier ;  though  equable  and  cool  in  tem 
per,  when  once  aroused,  he  is  like  a  lion  at  bay.  He  has 
been  reproached  with  a  want  of  imagination,  yet  he  has  the 
honor  to  claim  a  large  majority  of  our  national  poets,  and 
among  them  those  who,  at  home  and  abroad,  have  held  the 
highest  rank.  As  a  philosopher,  he  believes  in  that  indi 
vidual  freedom  "  which  protects  itself  against  the  usurpa 
tions  of  society  ;  which  does  not  cower  to  human  opinion ; 
which  feels  itself  accountable  to  a  higher  tribunal  than 
man's  ;  which  respects  a  higher  law  than  fashion  ;  which 
respects  itself  too  much  to  be  the  slave  or  tool  of  the 
many."  As  an  artist,  he  is  pre-eminent  in  the  higher  walks 
of  painting,  architecture,  and  ornamental  gardening.  As 
an  editor  and  political  writer,  he  is  unequalled.  As  a  mer 
chant,  he  sends  his  vessels  all  over  the  world,  and  owns 
two-thirds  of  the  shipping  of  his  country.  He  is  a  first-rate 
financier,  and  banks  and  insurance  companies  under  his 
direction  are  apt  to  preserve  their  solvency,  and  give  good 
dividends  when  others  are  bankrupt.  In  the  language  of 
Chevalier,  at  the  north  or  the  south,  in  the  east  as  well  as 
the  west,  he  is  a  true  Marquis  of  Carrabas.  At  Baltimore, 
as  well  as  at  Boston,  in  New  Orleans  as  wejl  as  at  Salem, 


178  YANKEE    HILL. 

in  New  York  as  well  as  at  Portland,  if  a  merchant  is  men 
tioned  who  has  made — and  kept,  by-the-bye  a  very  dif 
ficult  part  of  it — a  large  fortune  by  sagacity  and  forecast, 
you  will  find  that  he  is  a  Yankee. .  He  will  leave  his  coun 
try  for  the  East  or  West  Indies,  and  after  several  years  ab 
sence,  return  to  his  native  land,  erect  a  splendid  villa  on  the 
site  of  the  old  homestead,  or  select  some  wooded  eminence 
for  his  new  mansion,  and  ere  long  the  desert  smiles  like 
"  Araby  the  blest."  As  a  manufacturer,  he  was  the  first  to 
prosecute  the  business  successfully,  and  has  more  capital 
invested  in  this  branch  of  industry,  than  all  those  from 
other  parts  of  his  country  together.  As  a  mechanic,  he 
is  constantly  studying  to  save  labor  and  money.  He  was 
the  first  to  suggest  to  Fulton  the  idea  of  steam  navigation, 
and  the  first  to  succeed  in  propelling  vessels  in  this  way. 
He  was  the  inventor  of  the  cotton-gin,  which  has  done  more 
for  the  culture  of  cotton  and  consequent  wealth  of  the 
South,  than  all  else  together ;  to  use  the  language  of  the 
popular  author  we  before  have  quoted,  "  but  for  him  the 
vast  cotton  plantations  of  the  South  would  still  be  an  un 
cultivated  waste."  '  He  is  the  projector  of  new  towns  and 
internal  improvements,  and  the  principal  constructor  on  all 
our  public  works.  He  builds  navies  and  ordnance  for  the 
Sultan  of  Turkey,  war-steamers  for  the  Autocrat  of  Russia, 
machinery  for  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  whale-boats  and 
whaling-gear  for  the  King  of  France,  and  locomotive 
engines  for  England,  the  boasted  workshop  of  the  world. 
He  is  in  more  than  one  sense  a  builder,  and  had  he  lived  in 
the  days  of  Solomon,  would  no  doubt  have  been  a  Knight 
Templar. 

Not  an  acre  of  land  is  cultivated  in  the  Union,  not  a  ship 
floats,  not  an  American  book  is  read,  not  a  meal  eaten,  an 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  179 

article  of  clothing  prepared,  or  a  bank-note  engraved  in  this 
Union,  that  is  not  more  or  less  the  'product  of  Yankee 
labor  and  enterprise.  As  &  farmer,  he  does  not  suffer  him 
self  to  be  outdone ;  he  not  only  invents  the  best  ploughing, 
planting,  mowing,  raking,  cradling,  thrashing,  shelling,  win 
nowing,  and  grinding  machines,  but  he  is  the  best  agricul 
tural  editor,  and  is  pretty  sure  to  take  the  premium  for  the 
fattest  oxen  and  pigs,  the  finest  cheese  and  butter,  largest 
squashes  and  pumpkins,  in  all  cattle-shows.  He  also  dis 
plays  great  skill  in  subduing  the  wilderness,  raises  his  log 
cabin  at  the  falls  of  St.  Antony,  displaces  the  colony  of 
the  beaver,  to  make  room  for  h\s  saw-mill  on  the  Upper 
Missouri.  As  a  sailor  and  a  soldier,  our  naval  and  military 
history  will  speak  in  abler  language  than  I  can  command. 
He  was  the  first  to  cross  the  Atlantic  in  a  steamer  ;  shoot 
seals  at  the  South  Shetlands,  and  slay  the  sea-elephant  at 
Kergulan's  Land  ;  catch  cod  at  Labrador,  and  whale  at 
Delago  Bay  ;  was  the  first  to  discover,  and  as  yet  the  only 
one  who  has  ever  landed  upon  the  Southern  polar  conti 
nent.  He  takes  a  peep,  by  way  of  curiosity,  into  the  mael 
strom,  and  would,  for  a  sufficient  inducement  to  warrant 
the  outlay,  contrive  to  solve  the  polar  problem,  and  look 
into  Symmes'  Hole.  He  hails  the  Russian  exploring  expe 
dition  when  rejoicing  at  the  discovery  of  a  new  group  of 
islands  in  the  Antarctic  Ocean,  and  inquires  if  they  dont 
want  a  pilot  ?  On  being  asked  who  he  is,  and  where  he  is 
from,  gives  his  name  as  Captain  Nat.  Palmer,  of  the 
sloop  Hero  of  GO  tons  burthen,  from  Stonington,  Connec 
ticut.  The  Yankee  is,  in  short,  a  universal  genius  ;  his 
native  soil  is  remarkable  for  its  stubborn  and  sterile  rough 
ness,  and  he  can  be  compared  to  the  oak  of  his  own  rocky 
hills ;  strongly  and  deeply  are  rooted  his  principles  and 


180  YANKEE    HILL. 

habits ;  if  he  has  not  the  grace  of  the  Southern  palmetto, 
he  has  more  of  that  hardy  strength  which  can  wrestle  with 
the  rude  storms  of  life.  Like  the  young  eagle  reared  on 
the  lightning-rifted  cliff,  he  partakes  of  the  same  spirit  of 
fierce  independence  and  aspiration,  looks  unawed  upon  the 
storms  that  rage  around  him,  and  though  on  soaring  wing 
he  may  wander  leagues  away,  he  is  sure  -to  return  to  the 
nestling-place  of  his  attachment. 

They  love  the  land  because  it  is  their  own, 

And  scorn  to  give  the  reason  why  ; 
A  stubborn  race,  fearing  and  flattering  none, 

Such  are  they  nurtured,  and  such  they  die. 
All  but  a  few  apostates  meddling 

With  merchandise,  pounds,  shillings,  pence,  and  peddling, 
Or  wandering  through  the  Southern  countries,  teaching 

The  A,  B,  C,  or  Webster's  spelling-book, 
Gallant  and  godly,  making  love,  and  preaching, 

And  gaining,  by  what  they  call  "  hook  and  crook," 
And  what  moralists  call  over-reaching, 

JL  decent  living.     The  Virginians  look 
,  Upon  them  with  as  favorable  eyes 

As  Gabriel  on  the  devil  in  paradise  ; 
But  these  are  but  their  outcasts — view  them  near, 

At  home  where  all  their  worth  and  pride  is  placed, 
And  then  their  hospitable  fire  burns  clear, 

And  there  the  lowliest  farm-house  hearth  is  graced 
With  manly  hearts  in  piety  sincere. 
Faithful  in  love,  in  honor  stern  and  chaste, 
In  friendship  warm  and  true,  in  danger  brave- 
Beloved  in  life  and  sainted  in  the  grave. 

He  has  more  of  steady  courage  than  of  romantic  chivalry 
and  impulse.  With  no  other  patrimony  than  a  trade,  or  an 
education,  he  early  feels  the  pressure  of  that  strongest  in- 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  181 

ducement  to  action,  stern  necessity,  and  does  not  look  for 
many  examples  in  his  own  acquaintance  of  self-made  men 
to  stimulate  and  guide  him.     He  is  taught  in  the  home  of 
frugality,  that   "  a  penny  saved  is   a   penny   earned,'*  and 
learns  in  his  school-book  that  "  tall  oaks  from  little  acorns 
grow."     He  feels  the  importance   of  gradually  adding  to 
his  fund  of  wealth  and  knowledge ;  is  apt  before  embarking 
in  any  adventure  to  count  the  cost,"  and  is  more  remarkable 
as  a  shrewd  and  safe  operator  than  an  improvident  specu 
lator;  yet  he  has  no  objection  to  laying  out  his  farm  into 
town  lots,  but  is  rather  apt  to  sell  before  there  is  a  fall  in 
the  market.     He  possesses  a  great  deal  of  common  sense, 
as  well  as  brass,  and  is  remarkable  for  his  general  informa 
tion.     More  inquisitive  than  communicative,  and  is  cele 
brated  for  picking  up    knowledge   by  the  wayside ;  he  is 
ever  seeking  something  new,  and  how  he  can  turn  it  to 
profitable  account ;  rather  reserved  and  suspicious,  when 
appearances    are   not   marked    0.  K.,  but   clinches  those 
whom  judgment  has  once  approved  with  "  hooks  of  steel ;" 
he   is  the   true  alchymist,  for  he  possesses  the  power  o{ 
converting  the  laser  metal  into  gold,  and  the  divining  rod 
held  in  his  hand  is  pretty  sure  to  point  out  the  hidden  ore. 
Regarding   cash  as  the  primum  mobile,  he  acts  upon  the 
principle  that  there  is   "  no   friendship  in  trade,"  and   is 
therefore  a  keen  fellow  at  a  bargain  ;  yet  when  he  has  once 
amassed  a  fortune,  he   richly  endows  literary  and  charita 
ble  institutions,  and  is  kind  to  the  poor. 

It  has  been  our  misfortune  to  be  judged  too  much  by 
hawking  pedlers,  who  make  the  "  rule  of  three  "  their 
"golden  rule,"  and  the  arithmetic  their  creed.  I  once 
knew  two  individuals  who  set  up  in  trade  together  in  a 
western  village.  After  looking  over  the  ground,  they  con- 


182  YANKEE    HILL. 

eluded  that  it  was  best  for  one  to  join  a  certain  church,  the 
other  a  certain  political  party,  and  they  turned  up  a  copper 
to  see  which  each  should  join.  He  has  the  convenient 
capability  of  adapting  himself  to  every  situation,  and  it  has 
be«n  said,  that  if  you  place  him  on  a  rock  in  the  midst  of 
the  ocean,  with  a  penknife  and  a  bundle  of  shingles,  he 
would  manage  to  work  his  way  ashore.  He  sells  salmon 
from  Kennebec  to  the  people  of  Charleston  ;  haddock, 
fresh,  from  Cape  Cod  to  the  planters  of  Matanzas,  raises 
coffee  in  Cuba,  swaps  mules  and  horses  for  molasses  in 
Porto-Rico,  retails  ice  from  Fresh  Pond,  in  Cambridge,  to 
the  East  Indians — mutton,  from  Brighton,  at  New  Orleans 
and  South  America;  and  manufactures  morus  multicaulis 
for  the  Governor  of  Jamaica ;  becomes  an  admiral  in  foreign 
navies ;  starts  in  a  cockle-shell  craft  of  fifteen  tons  burden, 
loaded  with  onions,  mackerel,  and  other  notions,  too  nume 
rous  to  mention,  for  Valparaiso  ;  baits  his  traps  on  the 
Columbia  River;  catches  wild  beasts  in  Africa,  for  Macom- 
ber  and  Go's  "  Grand  Caravan ;"  sells  granite  on  contract  to 
rebuild  San  Juan  de  Ulloa — is  ready,  like  Ledyard,  to  start 
for  Timbuctoo  to-morrow  morning — exiles  himself  for  years 
from  his  home,  to  sketch  in  their  own  wilderness  the  "  wild 
man  of  the  woods,5'  and  astonishes  refined  Europe  with  the 
seeming  presence  of  the  untutored  savage.  When  intro 
duced  to  Metternich,  he  asks  him  "  What's  the  news  ?" 
says  "  How  do  you  do,  marm,"  to  Victoria  ;  and  prescribes 
"  Thompson's  eye-water  "  to  the  mandarins  of  China  ! 

He  is  found  foremost  among  those  who  sway  the  ele 
ments  of  society  ;  is  the  schoolmaster  for  his  country,  and 
missionary  to  the  whole  heathen  world. 

He  is  unequalled  in  tact,  and  instead  of  travelling  round 
about  ways,  starts  "  across  lots  "  for  any  desired  point. 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  183 

He  has  come  nearer  to  the  discovery  of  perpetual  motion 
than  any  other  man ;  and  if  ever  it  is  made,  we  guess  he 
will  be  the  lucky  chap  to  do  it.  He  is  the  man  to 

Bid  harbors  open,  public  ways  extend, 

Bid  temples  worthy  of  his  God  ascend  ; 

Bid  the  broad  arch  the  dangerous  floocf  contain — 

The  mote  projecting,  break  the  roaring  main  ; 

Back  to  his  bounds  the  subject  sea  command, 

And  roll  obedient  rivers  through  the  land. 

I  cannot  close  this  lecture  without  addressing  a  few 
words  to  the  women  of  New-England.  Her  beaming 
eyes  and  charming  smiles  remain  to  awaken  and  reward 
the  pulsations  of  patriotism ;  her  affection  and  tender 
ness  solaced  and  sustained  the  fainting  pilgrim ;  and  in 
the  days  that  tried  men's  souls,  she  gave  confidence  to  the 
desponding,  and  energy  to  the  weak ;  her  kind  hand  as 
suaged  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded,  and  her  bosom  pil 
lowed  the  head  of  the  dying. 

Whether  as  a  wife,  a  mother,  a  sister,  or  a  friend,  she 
has  the  strongest  claims  upon  our  affection  and  gratitude, 
and  holds,  of  social  enjoyment,  the  golden  key.  She  first 
implants  the  lessons  of  piety,  and  garlands  our  home  with 
flowers  of  love  and  bliss ;  she  is  the  guardian  angel  of  our 
lives,  and  guides  our  feet  to  purity  and  peace.  I  will  not 
say  more  at  this  time,  than  that  there  is  nothing  which 
more  clearly  marks  the  degree  of  refinement  among  a 
people  than  the  station  of  "  Heaven's  last  best  gift;"  and 
we  can  add,  that  there  is  no  part  of  the  world,  where,  with 
all  classes  she  commands  the  high  respect,  and  exerts  the 
influence  that  she  does  in  New-England. 


184  YANKEE    HILL. 


CHIPS  FROM  SARATOGA. 


SARATOGA,  in  the  fashionable  season,  perhaps  presents 
the  best  menagerie  of  "  human  critters  "  for  the  study  of 
the  curious,  of  any  other  place  in  the  United  States.  Not 
only  is  the  animal,  man,  there  seen  in  the  greatest  variety, 
but  under  the  most  advantageous  circumstances  for  those 
who  are  fond  of  seeing  him  in  the  full  display  of  extra- 
domestic  habits  and  manners.  In  a  place  where  so  large  a 
number  assemble  from  all  parts  of  the  United  States, 
from  all  professions,  and  from  all  classes  of  people  as  are 
to  be  met  with  in  Saratoga,  it  would  be  strange  if,  with 
some  elegance  and  refinement,  there  was  not  a  tolerable 
sprinkling  of  coarseness  and  rulgarity  ;  with  much  of  the 
quiet  dignity  and  repose  which  characterizes  the  well-born 
and  the  educated,  there  was  not  a  great  deal  of  ignorant 
assumption,  and  contemptible  purse-pride.  The  face  of 
society  in  this  country  is  continually  changing.  The  high, 
commanding  forehead  of  to-day,  is  down  in  the  mouth 
to-morrow  ;  and  the  proudly  turned-up  nose  of  yesterday, 
is  laid  flat  by  some  plebeian  fist  to-day.  The  aristocracy  of 
our  families  seldom  lasts  beyond  a  generation  or  two,  and 
in  no  place  in  the  United  States  can  you  more  plainly  see 
the  influences  of  the  great  democratic  principle  of  equality 
more  savagely  struggling  to  maintain  its  supremacy  than 
in  the  fashionable  watering-places  of  the  Union.  For  a 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  185 

season  or  two,  or  perhaps  three,  you  may  possibly  meet 
the  same  families,  but  for  the  most  part  in  that  time  you 
will  experience  a  great  change  both  in  the  manner  and 
quality  of  the  visitors.  The  fluctuations  in  cotton,  or  the 
decline  of  tallow,  has  produced  wonderful  changes.  Par 
ties  who,  in  your  remembrance,  were  content  with  a  cheap 
excursion  to  Coney  Island,  are  now  ambitiously  apeing  the 
manners  of  the  ton  at  Newport  or  Saratoga;  and  those 
you  perhaps  envied  there,  as  the  observed  of  all  observers, 
for  a  few  seasons,  are  now  content  with  a  maritime  excursion 
along  the  shores  of  Long  Island. 

Mr.  Hill  visited  Saratoga  on  many  occasions,  and  always 
met  with  a  hearty  support  from  the  gay  loiterers  to  his 
evenings'  entertainments.  I  know  not  what  advantage  Mr. 
Hill  might  have  derived  from  his  observation  of  character 
on  these  visits,  but  I  regret  to  say,  he  has  left  very  few 
written  records  of  his  experiences.  From  the  nature  of 
the  notes  he  made,  and  which  are  now  in  my  possession, 
it  is  evident  that  he  intended,  at  some  time  or  other,  to 
enlarge  upon  them  for  future  use. 

In  184G,  Mr.  Hill  visited  Saratoga  professionally.  On 
the  first  day,  he  went  to  dinner  at  the  United  States  Hotel ; 
he  was  seated  opposite  a  little,  round  dumpling  of  a  man, 
whose  fat,  red  face  displayed  an  utter  absence  of  everything 
like  care,  and  whose  happy  smile  showed,  if  not  the  pos 
session  of  a  good  heart,  a  most  undeniable  integrity  of 
digestion.  He  was  evidently  a  stranger  to  those  little  con 
ventionalisms  which  distinguish  polite  society.  He  was  not 
easy.  He  fidgetted  in  his  chair,  rubbed  his  hands,  wish 
ing,  as  it  appeared,  to  hide  the  confusion  of  his  feeling  in 
the  exuberant  action  of  his  body.  He  looked  up  and 
down  the  table  not  a  little  puzzled  to  make  a  choice  from 


186  YANKEE   HILL.* 

the  endless  variety  of  dishes  upon  the  table.  At  length  his 
eye  distended,  and  the  smile  upon  his  face  became  brighter 
and  broader. "  "  Waiter,"  said  he,  "  are  those  green 
peas  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What !  green  peas  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Give  me  some,  waiter ;  don't  take  them  away.  I'm 
very  fond  of  green  peas :  don't  take  them  away." 

"  Ah  !  woodcock,  waiter.     Is  that  woodcock  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Give  me  some  woodcock,  waiter.  Don't  take  them 
away,  waiter:  I  am  very  fond  of  woodcock." 

He  now  set  to  work  upon  his  woodcock  and  peas,  and 
whilst  busy  devouring  the  luxury,  a  gentleman  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Hill,  and  who  sat  next  our  fat  friend,  said  :  "  I 
am  very  happy  to  see  you  at  the  Springs,  Mr.  Hill." 

The  little  man  dropped  his  knife  and  fork,  and  after 
staring  Mr.  Hill  full  in  the  face  for  a  moment,  turned  to 
the  gentleman  who  had  spoken,  inquired  of  him  "  who  was 
that  man  over  there — and  what  is  he — and  what  does  he 
do?" 

"  A  great  many  things,"  replied  the  other,  with  a  very 
serious  air.  He  is  a  great  delineator  of  Yankee  character. 
He  can  put  his  face  in  ten  thousand  shapes,  and  imitate  the 
look  and  manners  of  every  man  he  meets." 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  he  gives  an  entertainment  to-morrow  night, 
and  you  had  better  take  care  what  you  do  or  say,  or  he  will 
show  you  up  in  the  most  laughable  style.  He  has  mon 
strous  power." 

The  little  mail  became  at  once  very  serious.     He  was 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  187 

not  so  silly  as  not  to  know  that  he  was  a  little  out  of 
place  in  the  company,  in  which  a  plethoric  purse  alone  had 
given  him  a  place,  and  he  dreaded  the  idea  of  be 
coming  an  object  of  ridicule.  The  green  peas  faded  before 
his  eyes,  the  charms  of  the  woodcock  had  taken  wing  and 
flown  away.  As  soon  as  possible,  after,  dinner,  he  sought 
an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  Mr.  Hill.  Approaching  to 
where  he  stood,  he  tapped  him  gently  on  the  shoul 
der,  and  drawing  him  on  one  side,  said  :  "  Look  here,  Mr. 
Hill,  you  are  not  going  to  make  the  folks  laugh  at  me,  are 
you  ?" 

"  Make  the  folks  do  what  at  you?" 
"  Laugh  at  me." 

"  Why,  what  put  such  an  idea  into  your  head  ?" 
"  Why  I  was  told  you  was — you  see,  Mr.  Hill,  I'm  a  kind 
of  strange  among  these  folks  here,  but  at  home  I  am 
"  some  pumpkins."  Now,  I  don't  mind  standing  five  or 
six  dollars,  if  you  won't  say  nothing  about  me.  Now,  don't, 
Mr.  Hill,  won't  you  ?" 

"  Never  fear,"  said  Mr.  Hill ;  "  it  is  not  my  province  nor 
my  nature  to  pick  out  individuals,  to  show  them  up  to  ridi 
cule  ;  so  there's  no  fear." 

"  Well,  now,  that's  hearty ;  and  if  that  waiter  has  not 
taken  away  the  peas  and  the  woodcock,  I'll  go  and  finish 
my  dinner."  So  taking  Mr.  Hill  cordially  by  the  hand, 
he  went  on  his  way  rejoicing. 


There  is  a  class  of  young  men,  who  let  their  dresses 
wear  them,  instead  of  wearing  their  dresses.  They  are 
but,  at  best,  mere  human  appendages  to  a  given  quantity 
of  broadcloth  and  starch.  Classes  of  the  softer  sex,  if 


188  YANKEE    HILL. 

anything  can  be  softer  than  the  male  class  referred  to,  are 
equally  liable  to  be  infected  with  the  same  weakness. 
Saratoga  abounds  with  humans  of  this  genus.  I  do  not 
know  that  one  would  care  anything  about  them,  if  it  were 
not,  that,  presuming  upon  the  unexceptionable  character 
of  their  attire,  they  did  not  thrust  themselves  upon  one's 
notice.  If  they  were  only  endowed  with  discretion  enough 
to  keep  their  mouths  closed,  they  might  pass  muster  as 
very  respectable  lay  figures  for  the  use  of  tailors  and  mil 
liners,  but  they  seldom  have  judgment  enough  for  that, 
and  out  of  their  own  mouths  they  stand  condemned. 

On  one  occasion,  as  Mr.  Hill  was  standing  at  the  door  of 
the  United  States  Hotel,  he  saw  approaching  him  a  human 
figure  dressed  in  the  extreme  of  fashion :  his  hat,  with 
extraordinary  ingenuity,  was  balanced  on  one  side  of  his 
head,  apparently  prevented  from  falling  off  by  the  aid  of  a 
large  bundle  of  curly  hair.  His  upper  lip  was  thatched. 
He  held  in  his  hand  a  little  cane,  with  which  he  would 
occasionally  beat  the  side  of  his  leg,  with  a  courage  quite 
remarkable,  considering  the  fragile  nature  of  his  supports. 
He  shuffled  towards  Mr.  Hill  in  the  most  affected  manner. 

"  How  do,  Mr.  Hill,  deloighted  to  see  you.  I  shall  pat- 
ronoize  you,  to-night,  I  shall,  pon  honor." 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  you  at  my  entertainment," 
replied  Mr.  Hill. 

"  Ah,  much  obleeged.  I  like  to  patronoize  such  persons 
as  you,  you  are  so  demned  entertaining:  you  are,  pon 
honor." 

"  I  feel  profoundly  sensible  of  your  kind  intentions  of 
patronoizing  me,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  mimicing  the  tone  and 
manners  of  the  exquisite,  "  but  I  would  not  have  you  run 
any  risks  on  my  account." 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  189 

"  Whoy,  it's  only  a  half." 

"  Oh,  ah !  that  is  not  what  I  meant ;  but  I  should  be 
afraid  if  you  should  come,  and  be  struck  with  an  idea,  it 
might  prove  fatal." 

"Sir!" 

"And  then,  sir,  you  know  if  I  should  chance  to  have 
the  honor  of  waking  you  up  to  a  hearty  laugh,  some  of 
your  gearing  might  give  way,  and  no  one  can  tell  what 
might  be  the  awful  consequences." 

"  Ah !  eh  !  you  are  demned  funny.  I  shall  certainly 
patronoize  you,  at  all  events ;  and  I  intend  to  bring  Miss  E. 
with  me,  pon  honor.  She  is  one  of  the  most  charming 

cree-tures  you  ever  saw, — dresses  so  well,   and ah  ! 

there  she  is,  delightful  cree-ture. — I  shall  bring  her  with 
me,  to-night,  pon  honor.  Bye,  bye,  Mr.  Hill,  depend  on 
my  patroinage."  Saying  which  he  departed. 

If  it  were  not  for  the  amusing  monkey  antics  of  such 
fellows,  it  would  be  a  fortunate  thing  if  they  could  all  be 
brained  with  a  Webster's  spelling  book,  or  some  other  fatal 
instrument  of  that  character.  Actors  are  particularly  liable 
to  be  insulted  by  promises  of  patronage  from  just  such 
brainless  animals  as  he  who  volunteered  to  countenance 
Mr.  Hill.  They  do  not  look  upon  the  actor  as  one  belong 
ing  to  a  profession  which  requires  talent,  energy,  and  study, 
for  its  successful  pursuit,  but  as  a  mere  instrument  of  their 
amusement, — not  having  a  particle  of  value  in  society  be 
yond  the  emotions  they  can  create  from  the  stage.  The 
actors  are,  themselves,  in  a  great  measure,  to  blame  for 
the  low  appreciation  put  upon  their  art.  If  they  were  only 
to  study  the  part  they  have  to  play  upon  the  real  stage  of 
life,  as  they  do  those  they  represent  upon  the  mimic  one, 
they  would  not  so  often  as  now  be  insulted  by  the  patron 


190  YANKEE    HILL. 

age  of  purse-proud  asses,  and  ignorant  dandies.  But,  to  re 
turn  to  Saratoga.  At  dinner,  on  the  day  Mr.  H.  encoun 
tered  the  exquisite,  he  had  the  pleasure  of  sitting  opposite 
the  charming  Miss  E.,  whose  beauties  and  accomplishments 
his  "  patron  "  had  so  highly  eulogized.  She  appeared  to  be 
about  nineteen  years  of  age,  rather  stout,  but  of  delicate 
complexion.  Her  hair  was  flaxen,  her  eyes  blue,  and  her 
nose  approaching  the  pug,  and  she  lisped. 

"  Thelina,  dear,"  said  she,  to  a  lady  who  sat  next  her, 
"  have  you  thelected  your  dreth  for  the  mathquerade  thith 
evening  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

"Do you  know  what  I  am  going  to  wear  ?" 

"  Well,  not  precisely." 

"  Oh,  thuch  a  love  of  a  dreth.  I  am  going  to  appear  ath 
a  Highland  Thotch  Lath.  Than't  I  look  a  divinity  ?  Mr. 
E.  thayth  he  thall  be  perfectly  enthanted,  and  will  not 
allow  me  out  of  his  thight  the  whole  evening ;  won't  that 
be  delithous  ?  Ma  thayth — do  you  ? — that  thee  really 
thinkth  Mithter  Higginth  will  propothe  before  we  leave  the 
Springth;  oh,  dear !  eh!  eh!  eh!" 

"  Oh,  scissors,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  and  left  the  table  in  a  roar 
of  laughter. 


ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS.  191 


A   FAMILY   PICTURE. 


MR.  HILL,  in  one  of  his  many  visits  "  down  east,"  was 
belated  one  evening,  and  was  compelled  to  seek  shelter  at 
a  small  farm-house.  He  thus  describes  the  family  party 
and  the  family  doings  on  that  evening. 

The  heads  of  the  family  were  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  who 
were  honored,  on  this  occasion,  with  .a  visit  from  a  plain 
sort  of  man,  who  told  me,  said  Mr.  Hill,  that  he  teached 
school  in  winter,  and  hired  out  in  haying  time.  What  this 
man's  name  was,  I  do  not  exactly  recollect.  It  might  have 
been  Smith,  and  for  convenience'  sake,  we  will  call  him 
John  Smith.  This  Mr.  Smith  brought  a  newspaper  with 
him,  which  was  printed  weekly,  which  Mr.  Jones  said — as 
it  did  not  agree  with  his  politics — was  a  very  weakly 
consarn. 

Mr.  Jones  was  seated  one  side  of  an  old  pine  table,  and 
Mr.  Smith  on  the  other.  Mrs.  Jones  sat  knitting  in  one 
corner,  and  the  children  under  the  fire-place — some  crack 
ing  nuts,  others  whittling  sticks,  <fcc.  Mr.  Jones,  after 
perusing  the  paper  for  some  time,  observed  to  Mrs.  Jones, 
"  My  dear !" 

MRS.  JONES.  Well. 

MR.  JONES.     It  appears. 

MRS.  J.     Well,  go  on. 

MR.  J.     I  say,  it  appears. 


192  YANKEE    HILL. 

MRS.  J.     Well,  law  souls,  I  heard  it;  go  on. 

MR.  J.     I  say,  it  appears  from  a  paragraph 

MRS.  J.  Well,  it  don't  appear  as  if  jou  were  ever  going 
to  appear. 

MR.  J.*  I  say,  it  appears  from  a  paragraph  in  this 
paper  

MRS.  J.  There — there  you  go  again.  Why  on  airth, 
Jones,  don't  you  spit  it  out. 

MR.  J.  I  say,  it  appears  from  a  paragraph  in  this 
paper  

MRS.  J.  Well,  I  declare,  Jones,  you  are  enough  to  tire 
the  patience  of  Job.  Why  on  airth  don't  you  out  with  it. 

MR.  J.  Mrs.  Jones,  will  you  be  quiet.  If  you  get  my 
dander  up,  I'll  raise  Satan  round  this  house,  and  you  know 
it,  tew.  Mr.  Smith'  you  must  excuse  me.  I'm  obliged  to 
be  a  little  peremptory  to  my  wife,  for  if  you  wasn't  here 
she'd  lick  me  like  all  natur.  Well,  as  I  said,  it  appears 
from  this  paper,  that  Seth  Slope — you  know'd  Seth  Slope, 
that  used  to  be  round  here  ? 

MRS.  J.     Yes  ;  well,  go  on  ;   out  with  it. 

MR.  J.     Well,  you  know  he  went  out  in  a  whalin'  voyage. 

MRS.  J.     Yes,  well. 

MR.  J.  Well,  it  appears  he  was  settin'  on  the  stern, 
•when  the  vessel  give  a  lee  lurch,  and  he  was  knocked  over 
board,  and  hain't  written  to  his  friends  since  that  time. 

MRS.  J.     La,  souls  !  you  don't  say  so. 

Before  going  further,  I  will  endeavor  to  give  you  some 
idea  of  this  Seth  Slope.  He  was  what  they  term,  down 
east,  "  a  poor  shote ;"  his  principal  business  was  picking 
up  chips,  feeding  the  hogs,  &c.,  &c.  I  will  represent  him 
with  this  hat.  (Puts  on  hat.) 

"  Mrs.  Jones  says  I  don't  know  nothin',  and  Mr.  Jones 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  193 

says  I  don't  know  notbin',  (laughs  ;)  and  everybody  says  I 
don  t  know  nothin' ;  and  I  say  I  do  know  nothiu',  (Laughs.} 
Don't  I  pick  up  all  the  chips  to  make  the  fires  ?  And  don't 
I  feed  the  hogs,  and  the  ducks,  and  the  hens  ?  (Laughs.) 
And  don't  I  go  down  to  the  store  every  morning,  for  a  jug 
of  rum  ?  And  don't  I  take  a  good  suck  myself  ?  I  don't 
know  nothin' — ha — (laughs.)  And  don't  I  go  to  church 
every  Sunday  ?  and  don't  I  go  up  stairs,  and  when  the 
folks  go  to  sleep,  dont'  I  throw  corn  on  'em  to  wake  'em 
up  ?  And  don't  I  see  the  fellers  winking  at  the  gals,  and 
the  gals  winking  at  the  fellers  ?  And  don't  I  go  home 
and  tell  the  old  folk ;  and  when  they  come  home,  don't 
the  old  folk  kick  up  the  darndest  row  ?  (Laughs.)  And 
don't  I  drive  the  hogs  out  of  the  garden,  to  keep  'em 
from  rooting  up  the  taters  ?  And  don't  I  git  asleep  there, 
sometimes,  and  don't  they  root  me  up.  (Laughs.)  And 
didn't  I  see  a  fly  on  Deacon  Stoke's  red  nose,  t'other  day  ; 
and  didn't  I  say,  "  Take  care,  Deacon  Stokes,  you'll  burn 
his  feet  ?"  I  don't  know  nothiu',  eh  !  (Laughs.) 

This  Mrs.  Jones  I  have  spoken  of,  was  a  very  good  kind 
of  woman,  and  Mr.  Jones  was  considered  a  very  good  sort 
of  man  ;  but  was  rather  fond  of  the  bottle.  On  one  occa 
sion,  I  recollect  particularly,  he  had  been  to  a  muster,  and 
came  home  so  much  intoxicated,  that  he  could  hardly 
stand,  and  was  obliged  to  lean  against  the  chimney-piece,  to 
prevent  himself  from  falling,  and  Mrs.  Jones  says  to  him, 
"  Now,  Jones,  aint  you  ashamed  of  yourself  ?  Where  on 
airth  do  you  think  you'd  go  to,  if  you  was  to  die  in  that 
sitiwation?" 

JONES,  (  Very  drunk).  Well,  I  don't  know  where  I  should 
go  to ;  but  I  shouldn't  go  far,  without  I  could  go  faster 
inan  I  do  now. 


194  YAKNEE    HILL. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Jones  had  finished  the  paragraph  in  the 
paper,  Mrs.  Jones  threw  on  her  shawl,  and  went  over  to 
her  neighbors  to  communicate  the  news.  I  will  endeavor 
to  gire  you  an  idea  of  Mrs.  Jones,  by  assuming  this  shawl 
and  cap.  (Puts  on  shawl  and  cap.) 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Smith,  I  suppose  you  ain't  heard  the 
news  ?" 

"  La,  no,  what  on  /airth  is  it  ?'' 

"  You  recollect  Seth  Slope,  that  used  to  be  about  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  very  well." 

"  You  know  he  went  a  whalin'  voyage  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  it  appears,  from  an  advartisement  in  the  papers, 
that  he  was  sittin*  on  the  starn  of  the  vessel,  when  the 
vessel  give  a  lee  lurch,  that  he  was  knocked  overboard  and 
was  drowned,  and  that  he  has  not  written  to  his  friends 
ever  since.  Oh,  dear  !  it's  dreadful  to  think  on.  Poor  crit 
ter  !— he  was  such  a  clever,  good-natured,  kind  soul.  I 
recollect  when  he  was  about  here,  how  he  used  to  come  into 
the  house  and  set  down,  and  get  up  and  go  out,  and  come 
in  agin,  and  set  down,  and  get  up  and  go  out.  Then  he'd 
go  down  to  the  barn,  and  throw  down  some  hay  to  the 
critters,  and  then  he'd  come  into  the  house  agin,  and  get 
up  and  go  out,  and  go  down  to  the  store  and  get  a  jug  of 
rum, — and  sometimes  he'd  take  a  little  suck  of  it  himself. 
But,  la,  souls !  I  never  cared  nothing  about  that.  Good, 
clever  critter  !  Then  arter  he'd  como  back  with  the  rum, 
he'd  set  down  a  little  while,  and  get  up  and  go  out,  and 
pick  up  chips,  and  drive  the  hogs  out  of  the  garden ;  and 
then  he'd  come  into  the  house  and  kick  over  the  swill- pail, 
and  set  down,  and  stick  hia  feet  over  the  mantel-piece,  and 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  IVfO 

wliittle  all  over  the  hearth,  and  spit  tob;i.cco  juice  all  over 
the  carpet,  and  make  himself  so  sociable.  And  poor  fellow  ! 
now  he's  gone.  .  Oh,  dear !  how  dreadful  wet  he  must  have 
got!  Well,  Mrs.  Smith,  it  goes  to  show  that  we  are  all 
accountable  critters. 


196  YANKEE    HILL. 


A  POOR  SPECIMEN  OF  THE  YANKEE  CHARAC 
TER,  AND  A  TOLERABLE  FAIR  SAMPLE 
OF  THE  IRISH  CHARACTER. 


THE  New  England  people  are  noted  for  their  hospitality ; 
for  although  they  will  shave  you  as  closely  as  possible  in  a 
bargain,  even  to  the  paltry  amount  of  a  few  cents,  they  do 
not  object  to  give  you  a  dinner  that  will  cost  ten  times  as 
much  as  the  advantage  they  might  get  in  a  bargain.  There 
are  black  sheep  in  every  flock ;  and  the  old  lady,  of  whose 
meanness  I  am  going  to  relate,  was  one  of  them.  A  poor, 
way-worn  traveller  of  an  Irishman,  stopped  at  a  small  farm 
house  in  the  neighborhood  of  Worcester,  and  asked  for  a 
bowl  of  bread  and  milk.  This  simple  refreshment  is  usually 
given  to  all  who  ask  the  slight  repast,  without  a  wish  for 
any  other  remuneration  than  the  satisfaction  to  be  derived 
from  the  doing  of  a  benevolent  act.  The  old  lady  to  whom 
the  poor  Irishman  appealed  was  not  to  be  rewarded  in 
this  way,  and  when  the  poor  fellow  had  partaken  of  his 
bread  and  milk,  and  some  hard,  indigestible  cheese  which 
was  placed  before  him,  he  asked  what  there  was  to  pay 
He  had  but  a  twenty-five  cent  piece  in  the  world,  but  hf 
was  proud  for  all  that. 

"  Why,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  seeing  as  how  you  hav< 
drank  a  powerful  lot  of  milk,  and  our  cows  are  very  dn 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS.  197 

this  summer — indeed  they  are  the  driest  lot  of  critters  you 
ever  did  see,  and  as  for  cheese,  I  never  dew  expect  to  see 
another  bit  of  cheese  as  long  as  I  live.  I  guess  I  must 
charge  your  twenty-five  cents  :  yes,  jest  abeout  twenty-five 
cents." 

The  poor  Irishman  reluctantly  threw  down  his  quarter, 
and  walked  towards  the  door. 

"  Look  here,  my  good  man,"  exclaimed  the  old  woman, 
"  you've  been  travelling  reound  a  good  deal,  I  dare  say, 
and  may  be  you  can  tell  suthen  that  will  cure  the  rats." 

"Faith!  marm,  you  may  say  that.  But  what's  the 
matter  wid  de  craythurs — what's  the  disase  ?" 

"  Oh  !  they  aint  got  no  disease.  They  are  abeout  the 
heartiest  lot  of  rats  you  ever  did  see.  They  have  gnawed 
clear  deown  from  the  garret  into  the  cellar,  and  I  do  wish 
I  could  get  suthen  as  would  drive  'em  away  from  the 
house." 

"  It's  me,  marm,  that  knows  what  will  drive  'em  away — 
like  St.  Patrick  driv  away  the  varmin  from  ould  Ireland." 

"  Dew  tell — there's  a  good  man  !" 

"  But  I'll  have  to  charge  you  fifty  cents  for  it,  for  I'm  a 
poor  boy." 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  mind  what  I  pay,  if  you'll  only  drive  them 
away,  so  that  they'll  never  come  back  again ;"  and  so 
saying,  the  old  lady  put  another  down  upon  the  one  she 
had  just  received  from  Pat. 

The  Irishman  put  both  into  his  pocket. 

"  Well,  marm,"  said  Pat,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  will  drive 
them  away,  so  that  they'll  never  come  back :  you  must 
get  a  large  bowl — not  such  a  one  as  I've  been  eating  from, 
but  a  much  larger  one  if  you  plase — fill  it  full  of  milk,  but 
don't  skim  the  crame  off  as  you  did  for  me,  crumble  some 


198  YANKEE    HILL. 

stale  bread  into  it,  and  be  sure  you  don't  use  i.  fresh 
baked,  for  it  aint  good  for  their  little  stomachs  ;  then  let 
all  the  rats  come  round  and  ate.  Don't  disturb  them, 
marm,  if  you  plase,  but  let  them  ate  as  long  as  they've  a 
mind  to,  and  when  they  get  through,  charge  them  twenty- 
five  cents  a  piece,  and,  by  St.  Patrick,  they'll  never  trouble 
your  house  again !" 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS.          199 


A  DINNER  PARTY  AS  WAS  A  DINNER  PARTY. 


THE  announcement  of  the  highly-successful  comedy  of 
"  The  Green  Mountain  Boy  "  was  presented  to  Mr.  Hill  by 
its  author,  during  his  first  appearance  in  Boston,  at  the 
Warren-street  Theatre.  The  success  of  this  piece  was 
celebrated  fyy  a  dinner,  at  the  lodgings  of  its  author.  Be 
sides  Mr.  Hill,  some  of  those  who  had  performed  in  the 
piece  were  invited,  and  other  gentlemen,  friends  of  the  au 
thor,  making  in  all  about  twenty  guests.  Dramatic  authors 
are  not  often  in  a  position  to  give  entertainments,  but  in 

this  case,  Dr. ,  occupying  an  eminent  position  in 

another  profession,  could  afford  this  almost  incredible  un 
dertaking.  The  day  before  the  dinner  was  to  be  given,  the 
author  received  a  note  from  Mr.  Hill,  desiring  that  all  the 
company  should  wear  white  wigs  upon  the  occasion,  and 
also  to  give  notice  that  he  should  take  the  liberty  of  bring- 
jng  a  friend  whom  he  had  accidentally  met,  and  whom  he 
had  believed  to  have  been  dead  a  number  of  years. 

In  order  rightly  to  understand  the  purport  of  all  this,  I 
must  recur  to  some  events  which  occurred  the  day  before. 
Mr.  Hill  was  very  fond,  when  walking  along  the  street,  of 
attracting  the  attention  of  the  passers-by,  by  making  some 
odd  quotation  from  the  dramatic  store  ever  at  his  com 
mand. 


200 


YANKEE    HILL. 


"  The  babe  died  with  its  mother  " — "  He  cut  her  throat 
from  ear  to  ear,"  and  such  like  sayings.  Frequently  he 
has  been  stopped  by  some  verdant  news-hunter,  desirous  to 
be  informed  the  particulars  of  the  heroic  story  thus  dimly 
shadowed  forth.  This  was  often  the  cue  for  some  extrava 
gant  invention  that  would  have  made  even  Baron  Mun- 
chausen  blush. 

About  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  there  was  a  great 
religious  excitement  in  Boston  against  the  theatres.  Fana 
tical  ranters  were  denouncing  everything  of  a  dramatic 
character.  They  mixed  play-acting  and  intemperance  in 
such  groggy  proportions,  that  many  of  the  well-meaning 
temperance  advocates  became  so  intoxicated  with  the  doses 
administered,  that  they  fell  off  the  temperance  platform, 
stumbling  upon  the  stage.  At  this  time  Mr.  Hill  had  been 
playing,  with  great  eclat,  Mawworm,  in  the  Hypocrite. 
One  morning,  whilst  passing  down  Washington-street,  he 
was  invited  by  a  friend  to  drink.  "  No,"  says  Hill,  "  I 
will  never  drink  again,"  and  seeing  a  seedy  individual  ap 
proaching — black  dress,  white  cravat,  &c. — he  exclaimed 
aloud,  a  la  Mawworm,  "  'tis  true — and  she  cut  her  thront 
from  ear  to  ear." 

"  Say,  friend,"  said  the  seedy  gentleman,  attracted  by 
the  manner  of  Hill,  "  what  did  she  cut  her  throat  for  ?" 

"Because  her  husband  got  drunk,"  replied  Hill.  "I 
knew  her  well,  poor  critter." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  anxiously  asked  the  seedy  gen 
tleman. 

Mr.  Hill's  invention  never  was  at  a  loss  in  such  a  case, 
and  he  made  the  hair  stand  on  end  upon  the  head  of  the 
astonished  listener,  when  he  related  the  horrors  which  led 
the  woman  to  cut  her  throat  from  ear  to  ear.  But,  how- 


ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS.  201 

ever,  rum  is  the  cause  of  such  real  horrors,  that  little  merit 
is  due  to  Hill's  invention  in  picturing  forth  its  evils.  No 
imagining  can  equal  the  reality. 

The  stranger  invited  Mr.  Hill  to  his  room,  near  by,  where 
the  tracts  were  printed  for  gratuitous  distribution,  by 
which  the  community  of  reformers  hoped  to  chase  sin 
from  the  city. 

Hill  told  Mr.  Spyman,  as  we  will  call  the  gentleman  in 
black,  (his  real  name  being  concealed  for  good  reasons) 
that  he  was  out  of  employment  at  present,  but  that  he 
could  write,  and  would  like  to  compose  some  tracts. 

Spyman  thought  he  might  do,  telling  him  if  he  would 
write  a  good  one  against  the  theatres  it  might  do  much 
good.  After  discussing  temperance,  and  other  congenial 
topics  of  the  day,  Mr.  Hill  proposed  that  his  new  friend 

should  call  at  No. Washington  Street,  at  6  P.  M.  on 

the  following  day,  informing  Spyman  that  a  committee  meet 
ing  was  to  be  held  for  the  purpose  of  buying  up  all  the 
theatres  and  converting  them  into  meeting  houses,  and  the 
actors  into  preachers.  Hill  gave  his  name  as  Duzanberry. 
Spyman  was  very  much  pleased  with  the  invitation,  and 
agreed  to  be  there,  Hill  also  promising  to  meet  Spyman 
at  the  tract  room  in  the  morning  of  the  same  day.  Hill 
kept  his  appointment,  and,  as  a  finish  to  the  morning's 
work,  proposed  to  introduce  Spyman  to  the  celebrated  Mr. 
Mawworm. 

At  5  P.  M.  on  the  day  of  the  dinner,  there  were  as 
sembled  at  No. Washington  Street,  twenty  indivi 
duals,  determined  on  enjoyment,  and  each  prepared  to 
furnish  his  quota  of  wit,  song,  sentiment  and  humor. 

Mr.  Hill  came  without  his  friend,  but  announced  that 
lie  would  mingle  with  "  society"  before  the  board  was 


202  YAKNEE    HILL. 

cleared.  The  whole  party,  without  at  all  comprehending 
Hill's  intentions,  complied  with  his  request,  and  appeared 
in  white  wigs.  They  made,  as  may  readily  be  imagined, 
rather  an  outre"  appearance.  Two  Irish  lads,  waiters  in  the 
house,  were  dressed  in  livery,  and  answered  to  the  well- 
known  dramatic  names  of  Doriscourt  and  De  Valscour. 
After  the  cloth  was  removed,  and  the  wine  was  circulating, 
a  general  request  was  preferred  to  Mr.  Hill  that  he  should 
explain  the  object  of  this  dining  in  wigs.  Mr.  Hill  deferred 
his  reply  for  the  present.  The  bell  rang,  and  Doriscourt 
came  into  the  room,  and  said  a  Mr.  Spyman  was  below, 
who  inquired  for  Mr.  Duzanberry.  Mr.  Hill  announced  that 
he  was  Mr.  Duzanberry,  and  that  the  object  of  Spyman  Js 
visit  was  to  have  Hill  read  a  tract.  He  acquainted  them 
with  his  interview  of  the  day  before.  The  company  now 
began  to  smell  some  fun,  immediately  resolved  themselves 
into  a  committee  of  twenty,  for  the  reception  of  the  envoy 
of  the  Reform  Club.  Glasses  and  bottles  quickly  disap 
peared,  and  De  Valscour  was  ordered  to  show  in  Mr.  Spy 
man.  Says  Hill  this  is  the  text  from  the  tract  from  which 
I  shall  preach  : — "  A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot 
stand."  All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  keep  sober,  and  whatever  I 
command  do  it. 

De  Valscour  entered,  and  following  him,  Mr.  Spyman. 
Hill  requested  the  company  to  rise  and  join  with  him  in 
singing  a  solemn  dirge,  which  they  did  very  gravely. 

Spyman  was  introduced  to  the  company,  Mr.  Hill  giving 
to  each  the  name  of  some  celebrated  preacher.  Spyman 
seemed  a  good  deal  puzzled  with  the  white  wigs,  but  the 
gravity  impressed  upon  every  face  seemed  to  satisfy  him 
of  the  honorable  order  of  the  meeting. 

Spyman  responded  to  the  introduction,  and  commenced 


ANECDOTES    AND    INCIDENTS. 

a  tirade  against  actors  and  acting,  and  said  he  had  just  re 
ceived  a  note,  informing  him  that  a  play  actor  named  Hill 
had  held  forth  in  the  theatre  against  reform.  He  then 
read  the  note,  which  was  as  follows  : 

"  Mr.  Spy  man, 

"  SIR  : — That  notorious  Yankee  Hill,  (a  general  titter 
in  the  company)  is  going  to  playact  again  next  week  in  the 
theatre.  Yours,  "A  FRIEND." 

The  reading  of  this  note  produced  sundry  winks  and 
girations  of  fingers  in  the  company.  Hill  advised  Spyman 
to  reply  to  the  note  through  the  papers,  and  commenced 
explaining,  after  the  manner  of  Mawworm,  much  to  the 
delight  of  his  friends,  and  to  the  surprise  of  Mr.  Spyman. 
At  length  he  drew  out  the  tract,  and  giving  Mr.  Spyman 
some  home  thrusts  for  his  ignorance  and  bigotry,  politely 

informed  him  that  he  was  Mr. Yankee  Hill,  and  that 

he  could  not  consistently  preacli  against  actors  or  thea 
tres,  for  you  know  my  text,  "A  house  divided  against  itself 
cannot  stand."  Spyman  was  astonished,  and  looking  upon 
Mr.  Hill  with  a  mingled  expression  of  sorrow  and  anger, 
lifted  up  his  hands  and  departed.  The  company  covered 
his  confused  retreat  with  a  rollicking  chorus.  At  his  exit 
the  bottles  and  glasses  were  brought  back,  and  song  and 
anecdote  resumed. 

The  story  of  this  committee  business  was  soon  noised 
abroad,  and  caused  a  great  deal  of  amusement,  for  Spyman 
was  well  known  all  over  the  city.  In  playing  Mawworm 
upon  the  stage,  Mr.  Hill  frequently  alluded  to  the  com 
mittee,  which  the  audience  received  with  evident  satisfac 
tion. 

THE    END. 


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